Whatever Floats Your Boat
by Pellegrina
Summary: Waking up after their first night together, not everything is smooth sailing for Jane and Lisbon... Starts out rather fluffy with the two of them enjoying 'The Magical Three': food, sex and banter. But adjusting to a new relationship involving two damaged people with a lot of baggage isn't always easy... Fourth part of my story arc and continuation of "Making A Night Of It".
1. Chapter 1

**This is the fourth part of my story arc, which to date consists of three other stories: "Food For Thought", "A Mockingbird In A Fir Tree", and "Making A Night Of It".**

**It's a direct continuation of the last one and won't make much sense without knowledge of the other stories.**

**It starts out rather fluffy, but will contain major angst issues in later chapters.  
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**The story includes explicit sexual content and is rated M for a reason.**

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**I would like to thank my dear beta reader firstdown for her excellent work and the vast improvements to my writing she's responsible for. Any remaining mistakes you might find are of course my own fault.**

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**I'm still not Bruno Heller, which remains to be a pity, but can't be helped. Consequently, I do not own "The Mentalist" and only play around with the characters.**

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**Reviews make me very happy and are a great motivator.**

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**Whatever Floats Your Boat  
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Teresa Lisbon was woken at noon by the fact that her bed had turned into a boat. That was at least what her last dream would indicate. She kept her eyes closed enjoying the sensation of the gentle up and down of the ocean waves, the feeling of deep peace from her dream carrying over into her awakened state. Very slowly her conscious mind caught up with her physical alertness. The first indicator was the realization that boats don't usually have the habit of stroking your hair. This led to another jump-start in her brain. She tried to orientate herself and found out that she was lying on her stomach, obviously naked and sprawled over a smooth surface that lifted and lowered her in an even rhythm. From somewhere under her right ear a constant beating sound was emanating.

"Are you conscious yet, Teresa?" a somewhat raspy voice asked from slightly above her head. "Or are you still racking your brain, trying to find out whether this is a save or a perilous situation you currently find yourself in?"

Her mouth turned into a happy smile, when her mind finally caught up with the whole state of affairs: she was lying on top of the man she loved, which incidentally meant that he was still here, in her bed, with her.

"Morning, Rigsby," she said huskily.

"Oh, Lisbon, not funny. That was a real low-blow," her lover whined. "You shouldn't do that to your men right after waking up together for the first time. You could do irreparable damage to some hapless guy with an inferiority complex."

"Oh, I couldn't resist. I've always wanted some payback for that time when you where regaining your sight and called ME Rigsby." She smiled sleepily against his chest. "Besides, I don't plan to wake up with any other man ever again and your ego is big enough to endure a few slights here and there, Patrick."

She opened her eyes, propped herself up a bit, and leant over to press her lips to his pouting ones. His arms found their way around her back, holding her close.

"Morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?" he asked after they broke their kiss.

"Like a baby. You wiped me out completely, it seems. How about you? Did you catch some sleep, Patrick?" she inquired warily, knowing this could be a touchy subject and she wasn't in the mood for yet another emotional release after all the heavy revelations from the past night. She was rather sure, that her lover had more than enough of that as well.

There were still a lot of things they would need to discuss in the near future, but right now she just wanted to savor this moment of closeness and contentment.

"Well, actually, believe it or not I only woke up about an hour ago which means I got about six or seven hours. So, not bad at all." He smiled, his hand still drifting through her hair. "What do you say, shall we loiter away the rest of the day in bed or did you have any plans for the weekend?"

She pondered his question for a moment or two. Lounging around with a naked Patrick Jane in her bed didn't sound all that bad. On the other hand she realized that she was rather hungry and a meal cooked by said man wasn't such a shabby alternative either…

She decided on a compromise. "I want you in my kitchen – naked - cooking breakfast for me."

He laughed out loud at that. "Let me guess: you couldn't decide whether you would be more inclined to stay in bed with me or listen to your stomach?"

She nodded a bit sheepishly.

"And that proposal is the reasonable middle ground you came up with?"

She nodded again.

"Well in that case, your wish is my command, my dear. But I have to insist you let me cover at least my more damageable parts before I use your gas stove – for your own benefit, of course."

"I think I can live with that. But your shorts have to go again as soon as we return here to eat in bed." She grinned happily.

"If you would grant me the same courtesy and accompany me to the kitchen in the nude, I would appreciate it very much, Teresa. But then again I might get a tad distracted by the sight which could turn hazardous. What do you think? A risk worth taking?" he teased.

"No risk, no fun, Mr. Jane. And you pride yourself on your self-control after all, don't you? Well, show some of that famous restraint then," she bantered.

"I know it might not appear that way considering my superior powers, but I am in fact only human, Agent Lisbon. And man is but frail matter That lady maketh splatter," Jane declared mock-sighing.

"Was that your good old buddy Shakespeare again?" she asked doubt clouding her voice.

He chuckled obviously amused. "No, Teresa. But thanks anyway, for the almost compliment – I'm afraid that was pure Jane. Not my best effort I admit, but it was absolutely heart-felt and spontaneous. That has to count for something at least, doesn't it, my dear?"

Her giggle warmed his heart and he just had to grab her face and plant a kiss on her smiling mouth. "I love you, Teresa," he spluttered afterwards and she caressed his cheek looking at him warmly and answered gently.

"I love you too, Patrick. Very much so." After a moment she added teasingly, "But your pancakes take a solid second place on the scale of my affections, so my day would be perfect having both of my favorite things put together."

"I guess that is your subtle way of telling me to get the hell out of your bed and make myself useful?" he inquired smirking.

"Got that right, mister."

"Well, not to sound disobedient but we have a problem here. You are aware, my dear, of the fact that you are actually lying right on top of me impeding my immediate departure?"

"Little details like that don't usually deter you from doing exactly what you want," she stated pertly.

He grinned evilly. "Oh, I wouldn't dare to call you a little detail but if you put it like that…" And with that he grabbed one of her shoulders and the hip which was diagonally opposite, lifted her up as if she was a feather, sat up himself and lowered her down again gently right beside him.

She looked up at him in open-mouthed shock. "What the hell! Did you just discard of me like I was some kind of bothersome obstacle?" she asked in indignation a moment later.

He smirked cheekily. "Of course not, Teresa. I just followed your orders to the letter. Isn't that what you always ask me to do? And here I'm, actually being all obedient and dutiful and she complains again… ack – you are a hard one to please." He threw his hands up in mock resignation. "I better get up and feed you before you get all grumpy. Coffee first, I suggest. I will get to it immediately. And if you would grant me a chance to take a short shower before I start on the real cooking I would be eternally grateful." He got up but not before planting another kiss on her mouth.

"Coffee sounds great, Patrick. And if you could hand me a glass of water right now I would appreciate it very much." He nodded yes, took the pitcher from her night stand, and poured her a glass.

She watched, admiring the view of her naked lover bent forward to do the task. He really has a damn fine ass, she thought with satisfaction.

He handed her the drink. "Here's your water. I'll be back in a few with your coffee. You just stay here and rest some more if you want to." With that he made his way out of the bedroom.

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She lay back on her bed, a feeling of warmth, happiness and contentment filling her. He had stayed with her, he'd actually slept in her bed cuddling her, and he had been loving and playful this morning or rather afternoon giving no indication of being uncomfortable with the changed status of their relationship. All hints of her own doubts had vanished as well the moment she'd realized that absolutely nothing about this felt the least bit awkward.

Not even being completely naked in his presence bothered her – something she was a bit shy about usually. She wasn't a prude by any means, but to be honest – she was a little insecure about her appearance, and what woman wasn't? Somehow he had managed to make her feel totally at ease. And they were still acting like they had done both as Agent Lisbon and consultant Jane and as best friends only with the added bonus of expressing their feelings physically as well.

This was playing out even better than the way she'd dreamt it. That is, the very few times she'd actually allowed her dreams to go in that direction and had been in an overly optimistic mood simultaneously. Because only yesterday who in their right mind would have dared to predict that she would be resting in bed now after a night of absolutely mind-blowing sex with Patrick Jane, the smell of coffee brewing teasing her nose, eagerly awaiting the return of the man in question? Completely preposterous! But that's exactly what was happening and she was so incredibly happy her face was split in two by her blissful smile.

"You look exceptionally beautiful with that smile on your face, my dear," Patrick said from the bedroom door a moment later. "And now that I've come bearing coffee, we have to be careful your rapture doesn't reach dangerous proportions."

Coming closer, he set two mugs on the bedstand and gave her a peck on the nose with a grin. "I didn't get such a smile the other times I brought you coffee. Did anything unusual happen while I slaved away in your kitchen?" he inquired.

"Nope," she said. "I just allowed my mind to catch up with the latest changes in my life and I can honestly say – I am thoroughly happy, Patrick."

"That's good to hear, Teresa. Making you happy happens to be my top priority now."

The last part was added with a serious and meaningful expression that conveyed to her once again the monumental change that had occurred during the night.

She didn't fool herself into thinking that his obsession with Red John would disappear all of a sudden and that he would give up his revenge. She didn't expect that from him either. It wouldn't be fair to him. And frankly, after all the things that bastard had done to people she cared for – especially to the man currently looking at her with the first hints of hope he'd allowed himself in nearly ten years - she wished for Red John's downfall nearly as much as Jane did by now. And even though she was still eager to prevent Patrick from becoming a cold-blooded angel of vengeance when he got the chance, she'd long since accepted that a normal arrest and trial for the serial killer wasn't the way to go.

Unfortunately, she'd seen too much corruption on the inside of both law-enforcement and the juridical system to trust them blindly anymore. That monster was connected and cunning, he was manipulative and ruthless. Therefore, all she wanted now was for that bastard to be dead and gone without a chance to come back in any way or form. Naturally in her conception this meant him being shot by a cop/herself in self-defense during his arrest because anything else wasn't really acceptable in her book. Not that she intended to tell her lover about her change of heart on the matter any time soon…

Anyway, to hear Jane expressing his desire to make her the most important thing in his life was a deeper declaration of love than a mere phrase like 'I love you' from this man could ever be. She was deeply moved by it. Consequently she couldn't for the life of her think of any adequate response to his statement. That's why she decided to just allow it to stand.

She propped herself up fully leaning her back against the head board and reached for the coffee mug her lover was handing her.

She patted the space right next to her on the bed. "Come sit with me for a minute, will you? Drink your tea with me and then we can share a shower. Sound good to you?" she said seductively.

"Very much so." He nodded eagerly and sat down beside her. "It won't be conducive to those pancakes you wanted me to make for you, but you won't hear me complain. I would choose you over food anytime."

"Jane, you are awfully sappy today, you know?" she teased him.

"Yup. Can't help it – I woke up like that. It's your fault, actually. How else could I possibly behave after waking up to the sight of a blissfully dreaming Teresa drooling all over my chest?" he asked her cheekily, earning himself a cuff on the shoulder in return.

"I never drool, Jane. I don't even know how it's done."

"Really now, Lisbon? You could have fooled me. But if you say so… we can just as well call it salivating then if it makes you feel better." He rubbed her arm tenderly. "And for the record: Ow! That hurt – again…" he grinned, having just received another slap on his shoulder.

"Sappy and a wimp, Jane? If I didn't see them with my own eyes right now, I would have to say: Grow a pair," she bantered.

"Come to the bathroom with me and I'll show you they are in peak working condition," he teased right back, sporting an overdone ruttish smile that made her laugh.

"Yeah, come on hotshot, do your worst to me."

"Even on the danger of sounding sappy again, but I'll of course only do my best to you, my dear. Have you finished your coffee yet?" he inquired.

She nodded and handed him her empty mug pecking him on the cheek in the process. "That shower sounds very tempting right now. Even better than a second cup of coffee in fact. Come on, get your lazy butt up and accompany me."

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**TBC**

**A review a day keeps the doctor away...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: Explicit sexual content ahead.**

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He smiled and stood up, extended his hand so she could grab it, and pulled her up as well right into his open arms. He started to kiss her hungrily, stroking her back as well. She moaned appreciatively into his mouth because he had - on purpose of course - touched some of her more erogenous spots in the process. He deepened the kiss even more and she could feel her legs turning weak.

She'd always thought the notion of a kiss making you swoon a ridiculous Hollywood fabrication. Now however, she'd gained new perspective, though it had to be a fabrication still for the rest of the world, considering she was the only lucky woman to have Patrick Jane kissing her like that.

Fortunately, he seemed to pick up on the fact that her legs weren't the most stable at the moment because he lifted her up and encouraged her to straddle his waist effectively carrying her to the bathroom that way. He placed her on the vanity and proceeded to the shower to start the water and warm it up.

"Hm, Jane?" Teresa said a moment later blushing a bit.

"Yes, Lisbon, what's the matter?"

"I…could you…I mean…?" she spluttered.

"Ah yes, of course, no problem, my dear. I'll be close by. Just holler when you're done," he said sympathetically.

His understanding had eased her so much she decided she could risk talking again with some coherence. "Patrick, sometimes I'm really not sure about this whole psychic-thing. How the hell could you possibly comprehend what I meant just now?"

"Oh come on, Teresa. There's absolutely nothing supernatural about this. It's simple observation and reasoning: You drank a lot of water and a mug of coffee and you haven't been to the bathroom for hours. Ergo, you need to relieve yourself, which made itself known with some urgency when you got sight of the toilet." He gestured from her to said object. "You blushed, indicating that you're not comfortable yet to share that particular experience with me, which is completely alright by the way." She blushed again and he continued. "No reason to be embarrassed about it, which you are because you're insecure about my reaction to all the aforementioned, hence your stuttering. Conclusion: I'll leave you alone now so you can get down to your business." He pecked her on the lips, switched off the shower he'd just started, and left, closing the door on his way out.

She followed nature's call and while sitting there she couldn't help but smile. How could anyone ever accuse that man of being evil or cruel? To her he was the most caring and understanding man she could think of – well, most of the time. He could be quite a mean bastard, she had to admit that. And granted, she might be a bit partial, loving the man and all. Still, essentially he was a very warm person – anyone who'd ever seen him with kids couldn't argue that point.

And though he could be relentless and merciless in his teasing he clearly knew where to draw the line, at least where his friends were concerned. He never intentionally set out to hurt them. He did so on occasion, but to be honest it mostly happened when he'd been hurt by some callous remark first. And even in those situations when his barbs had cut into someone close to him with deadly precision, she'd witnessed glints of instant regret in his eyes. Often he would then try to make up for it with small friendly gestures like bringing coffee or leaving the person's favorite snack on their desk – usually without the one in question realizing that it was a. Jane who left the gifts and b. that he would even think he had to make amends.

In most cases, as several conversations over the years with Rigsby and Van Pelt had shown her, the ones Patrick thought to be his poor victims actually saw themselves as the culprits, because they'd been the ones to hurt him with some thoughtless remark first.

Until now she'd never let him in on that particular secret because she'd found it so utterly endearing and sweet to see how eagerly he tried to repent all the while attempting his hardest not to be exposed doing the deed.

She was sure that by now all the members of her team had seen through his act. She had done so already many, many years ago. And she'd been heartened by the fact that even after the whole Las Vegas-fiasco they'd started to reach out to him again.

After all the information about his childhood she'd received last night however, she decided to reveal such facts to him immediately in the future. The last thing the man needed was anything else to add to the already inconceivably large mountain of guilt he carried around on a daily basis.

She suddenly realized she'd been lost in thought for quite some time, so she hastened to finish her business, flushed the toilet and left the room in search of her lover. Following the sounds she could hear she found him in the kitchen obviously in the act of getting a head start on their breakfast turned lunch slowly turning into dinner - if she had any say in the matter.

"Hello, gorgeous." He looked up at her, smiling warmly at her approach. "I was starting to miss you. Are you up to taking that shower now or would you prefer me to make you breakfast first? Or take separate showers if that's what you'd like, though I have to admit I am a bit partial to option number one."

"Well, I am hungry but food's definitely not first on my agenda right now. And I think I've suddenly discovered my green awareness. Why waste water on two showers when there's enough room for two in my shower stall?" she said, trying and failing to sound casual.

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He came around the counter immediately, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the stairs.

"Someone seems rather eager," she observed with amusement.

"You have no idea," he answered.

They'd reached the bathroom by now. Patrick restarted the shower and added, "To be honest, I've been eager ever since I woke up with you in my arms this morning. I should probably warn you, Teresa. I have to make up for nearly ten years worth of chastity – if you want to scram, you better do it now, because after I've ravished you a second time, there's no chance I'll ever let you go again."

Lisbon attempted to don a fearful expression, but all she could do was looking completely zealous. "Considering that I haven't had that much action lately either – as you well know – I'm sure I can put up with a randy debauchee for a while…"

He pulled her under the spray, pushing her until her back was to the shower wall. His lips descended on hers in a kiss that made his further intentions blatantly obvious. He seemed completely under the spell of passion and she simply loved the sight of him in this state. His hands touched her wet, naked skin with the single purpose of arousing her beyond any restraint. He succeeded obscenely fast. She could feel his erection pressing firmly against her stomach and touched the hard flesh with her fingertips. He moaned, which made her continue until he was in a frenzy. His fingers found their way between her legs, parting her lips skillfully. She was so aroused already, that it didn't take many of his light touches to her clit until she came. He took advantage of her state of bliss, hoisting her, guiding her legs to straddle his waist in a repeat of their earlier position. But unlike then, he now lowered her until his penis penetrated her to the hilt. His eyes were closed in pleasure, his whole face a picture of rapture. He grabbed a hold of her hips and sat out to move her up and down his length.

The warm water was flowing over him from above, the shimmer of the water drops on his skin only enhancing his beauty in her eyes.

Seeing him like this made her incredibly hot, and his erection inside of her only enhanced that. She urged him on, her words coming out in short panting breaths. "Yes, Patrick, oh yes, harder, please, oh god, yes, more, take me harder."

He obliged eagerly, resting her back against the wall to take some of the weight from his arms. This gave him more leeway. Holding her up with almost brutal strength, he started to practically nail her to the wall. She screamed in ecstasy and he groaned her name loudly. She was the first one to explode, but the contractions caused by her orgasm seemed to force him over the edge only seconds later.

They sank to the floor of the tub in a boneless heap, and her last coherent and utterly happy thought for a while was, that even his last action before surrendering to gravity himself had had the single purpose of setting her down without her getting hurt. "Love you, Patrick," she murmured before she gave in to darkness.

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She regained consciousness to Patrick sitting behind her and washing her hair, massaging shampoo into her scalp. She was propped up against his chest her head reclining on his shoulder, obviously to avoid that any soap got into her eyes. She felt completely safe and contented. "Hi, my love," he greeted her warmly, continuing with his task.

"Do you think, you are able to get up yet?" He slicked his hands down her arms and laced his fingers through hers. "It would be a lot easier to finish this standing," he explained a moment later.

She affirmed this, and he got up and helped her to her feet. She closed her eyes and held her head under the spray to complete the process, giving a little jerk when all of a sudden hands started to clean the rest of her body with infinite gentleness.

"You are so beautiful, my Teresa," he whispered in her ear from behind. "I could touch you all the time."

She blushed at the obviously heart-felt compliment, one she was entirely not used to hearing. For that reason her next words, meant to sound nonchalant, came out quite huskily. "Be my guest, Patrick," she said, as she turned to face him.

She took a good look at him and realized that he appeared different somehow. The wet hair, bare of any unruly curls for once, did its part of course, but the changes were more distinct. His eyes had lost some of the sadness, that had taken residence there nearly ten years ago. The lines on his face looked smoother today and the hours of uninterrupted sleep had done wonders to the dark circles, which nearly constantly surrounded his eyes. His gentle smile lit up his whole face as well. All in all, he looked much younger and less haunted and it suited him extremely well in her opinion.

"You know, you don't look too shabby yourself, Patrick. I think, being with me agrees with you." With that said, she grabbed the bottle of his body-wash, that had taken residence in her bathroom two weeks ago, and started to return his favor.

"Washing your hair while we are both standing up might turn out to be a challenge, but maybe you're up to the task yourself." She lathered her hands and smoothed the suds across his chest as she continued. "Though I'd love to do it another time. I find those curls of yours rather enticing," she explained.

"Oh, I think I'm capable of doing that. I've done it once or twice before, after all. And if you're after the curls – well, they've retreated at the moment anyway – they seem to be a bit hydrophobic," he replied, taking his shampoo.

He was just about to start his task, when Teresa's ministrations had reached his groin. He moaned loudly at her touch, a wave of arousal spreading through his body at lightening speed, the shampoo bottle dropping to the floor with a thud.

"You didn't lie when you told me about that pent-up desire, did you?" she asked in amusement, proceeding to touch his renewed erection.

"God, Teresa," he groaned. "You don't have to do that, if you don't want to. I… ah.. I am sure, aaah, sure, it will go-oooh, go ahh-way, if we, oh god, if we iii-gnore it," he pressed out.

She smiled warmly at him, still stroking his penis. "Why ever would I want to stop? I rather enjoy touching you, making you lose control…. It's a very gratifying task, Mr. Cool-and-Collected." In a seductive whisper she added, "You like that, don't you? All at my mercy, incoherent putty in my hands…"

"Oh, yessssss," he hissed. He had some trouble holding himself upright, finally resolving to lean against the shower wall for support. He was panting and she used the hand that wasn't stroking his erection to fondle his nipples, because she remembered that he seemed to be extra sensitive there. His reaction proved her right very nicely.

She took a long look at him and savored the moment. With his eyes closed, back pillowed against the wall, his arms hanging uselessly by his sides, hands clenched into fists, face a picture of pleasure and lust, he was more open than she'd ever seen him before. He'd given up control to her completely, submitting himself. She was very positively surprised that he'd surrender the power to her like that. She'd never expected him to grant her the lead in their sexual encounters. It had actually worried her a bit, because she was a natural leader herself and though she rather liked to let someone else take the reins once in a while in her private life, she wasn't the type of woman who only spread her legs and waited for the man to do his job. Obviously, she didn't need to worry at all – he was apparently very willing to let her be at the wheel and she relished it.

She stepped up the speed of her strokes, sensing that he was getting close. "Patrick?" she asked, trying to get his attention. "Ye-aaah," he groaned. She increased the pace even more, squeezing one of his nipples as well. Simultaneously she ordered, "Come for me now," and for the first time in the almost nine years of their acquaintance he followed her command immediately without the slightest protest.

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To her it was a picture of real beauty, seeing him in the throes of his orgasm, unguarded and blissful. She embraced him, holding him up at the same time. It took him a long moment to regain his composure. He whispered a husky "Thank you" in her ear before he took hold of her face and kissed her slowly and deeply, clearly to show his gratitude and to give her a reaffirmation of his love, not to start anything sexual again.

"It was all my pleasure, Patrick, so you're very welcome," she said, when he broke the kiss. At that moment her neglected stomach decided to make its presence known with an angry growl. She blushed a bit but had to chuckle together with him.

"Guess, your priorities have just changed, my dear," he teased. "I'll just give my hair a quick wash and then I'll resume my duties as your personal chef post haste, I promise."

He bent down to recover the abandonded bottle of shampoo and followed through with his pledge. After a very quick wash, he turned off the water and stepped out of the stall.

While grabbing for their towels, he japed. "Sorry to disappoint you, oh agent of the green awareness, but I'm afraid your ecological footprint has grown at least two sizes with that shower." They both laughed.

He held her towel open and engulfed her in it, starting to dry her off. When her hair was the only thing left wet, he dried himself off as well. When he had toweled his hair a bit, his curls made a grand recurrence to her delight.

He reached for his comb, but her hand on his stopped him.

"No, just let them be for today. Please," she requested.

"Okay, but don't complain when I look like a poodle in approximately half an hour," he answered with a grin. "Why don't you dry your hair, while I start on the food? I'll just make us a sandwich first to soothe that angry bear residing in your stomach and hold us out until I've finished my real masterpieces," he added. She nodded, and he pecked her cheek before leaving the bathroom.

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**TBC**

**Please review! My muse needs a bit of TLC once in a while...**


	3. Chapter 3

She heard him rummaging around in her guestroom, or his room actually, in search for some fresh clothes, she presumed. She smiled to herself, enjoying the domesticity of it all. Starting her blow-dryer, she lost herself in her thoughts.

Ever since he'd moved in with her two weeks ago, it had felt almost natural to have him here, even before this new development in their relationship. He just fit in without problems. He was a neat man, always tidying after himself. He was attentive and considerate. And while she'd been afraid he would be irreverent towards her privacy, snooping out every nook and cranny, that hadn't been the case. Though she suspected that he'd already done that on previous occasions anyway, which she now had to smile about indulgently. 'God, I have got it real bad' she thought, 'if I'm even finding his annoying curiosity endearing now.'

But the truth was, having him in her home had been nice – really nice. It was comfortable to have someone around in the evenings after a hard day at work. Well, not someone, but Patrick. He knew her so well, and he always did the right things to cheer her up when she needed it. He often did so in ways that irritated her greatly at first, but he always reached his goal and made her smile in the end.

What she also liked about him was – at least when it came to their cohabitation – that he seemed to feel so completely at home in her apartment. There was no awkwardness, he didn't expect her to play host or serve him in any way. He just behaved as if he'd been living at her place for ages and belonged there. He did the very same thing when they came to suspects' or victims' houses, and in those cases, it often irritated her immensely – he'd managed to poison himself with belladonna that way, for crying out loud – but here in her home, she enjoyed it. It made things so much easier and made her feel totally relaxed and at ease around him.

She finished with her hair, left the bathroom and went to her bedroom to find something cushy to wear. She decided on a pair of short sleep pants and a tank top. After dressing herself she went down the stairs and into her kitchen. On the kitchen counter another mug of freshly brewed coffee was waiting for her together with half a sandwich - the other half obviously being consumed right now by the curly blond man behind the counter top. To her delight he was actually bare chested.

But when her gaze went further down, she recoiled in real shock. "Jane, you are wearing jeans!"

Patrick, feigning surprise, looked down his own legs and shook his head in mock-concern. "Surely not, Agent Lisbon, you must be delusional. However should that be possible? Has hell frozen over yet?"

She came around the kitchen counter to punch him lightly on his arm. "Very funny, Jane. But honestly, I had no idea you even owned something as mundane as jeans." She openly oggled him, admiring how the denim hung from his hips.

"Guess I'm full of surprises then, my dear. But truth be told, it is actually my only pair and they're about ten years old. So, not at all up-to-date fashion-wise I'm afraid, comfy enough though. I hope you approve. You do look fetching yourself, by the way." He pecked her on the lips.

She wrapped her arms around him, slipping her hands in the softly worn back pockets to give his buttocks a firm squeeze. She sighed. "You know, this isn't fair to the rest of the male population: Before, they had at least their jeans left to look acceptable in – now, you've taken that from them as well. You, Patrick Jane, shouldn't be allowed to wear jeans, they are more than becoming to you."

He laughed at that pecked her on her nose and asked, "Aren't you a bit biased, maybe?"

She shook her head no and continued, "If I wasn't so hungry, I would ravish you on the spot. But as it is, I'll have to make do with that sandwich here."

She released him, helped herself to her half of the snack and took a bite. Five seconds later she moaned. "Gosh, Jane, this is delicious. What the hell is it?"

He paused in his food preparations and looked very smug, when he answered: "Oh, my very own creation: Toast, butter, horseradish, Parma ham, salad and pickled beet root. I'm glad you like it. It's one of my favorites, actually. Though, you're probably so hungry by now, you're not an objective judge." With that, he resumed his tasks.

"Nonsense, Jane. This is so good, you should get it patented. You could make millions with it," she said in delight. "I had no idea, I had even half of those foodstuffs in my fridge though."

"Well, technically, up until Thursday night you didn't. We were out of practically everything after that stressful week. I went to the 24-hour-shop at four in the morning." His continued moving with ease as he spoke, measuring out ingredients for pancakes into a mixing bowl, pulling various items out of the cabinets and the refridgerator. "I was up putting together the clues on our case anyway and decided I could just as well do something practical on the side. Sometimes it helps my thinking. And voila, Agent Lisbon – you have a fridge full of delicacies and a closed case as well," he boasted.

"Show-off," she teased. "But be careful – if you go on spoiling me like that, I might become very annoying to be around."

"Oh, I can do annoying very well myself – I'll take you on in that respect any time. And I have years of intense training behind me to boot, Teresa. But I almost feel sorry for the rest of the team. With the both of us bugging them from now on, they'll succumb to madness in a week's time, tops." He smirked.

"Okay, okay, I admit defeat. In the annoying-department, there's absolutely no one who could possibly hold their own against you," she teased.

"Yes, and just you remember it. It's so gratifying to know, one is appreciated for one's true talents," he answered grinning, all the while continuing his cooking. He had finished with the batter for the pancakes a while ago and was caramelizing apple slices and almond slivers in a pan with a hint of cinnamon, clove and cardamom now. It smelled mouth-watering and she was reminded of the fact that it was already half past three in the afternoon and half a sandwich wasn't enough to sustain a woman who'd been put through a night and day of strenuous physical activities.

"Brrrrh there, Lisbon. Just so you know: I'm sure, my flesh's very tough – I'm not that young anymore after all. Are you still going to guzzle me, or are you able to wait a few more minutes? You look dangerously ravenous right now…" he asked, feigning fear.

"Shut up and cook and I might just spare you. But I wouldn't count on it," she said with a snarl that was too cute to be scary.

* * *

He laughed at her ridiculous face. Amused he suggested, "You know, you could help it along a bit. Be a doll and get some plates for us? And silverware as well – I'm about ready to serve. Eating in the living room on the couch okay with you?"

She nodded, fetched two plates and cutlery, proceeded out of the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of the coffee table. The candles waiting there to be lit didn't surprise her too much, but how the hell had the guy gotten the two roses sitting there in a vase? Getting closer, she had to laugh. They were actually origami-flowers. For a moment there, she really thought he'd somehow magically conjured the roses (well, more like 'magiced' them from her neighbors' garden) – one could never be too sure with that man after all. But this was even sweeter in her eyes. She sat her burden down on the table, took a seat on the sofa, and examined his work. From afar, they'd looked eerily real, close up on the other hand, she could easily identify them as paper-made. They were rather big and beautiful, antique pink in color and at closer inspection, she discovered that he'd made them from some of the paper napkins she had on hand and which, incidentally, also waited to be used for their meal in their original form on the table. She smiled happily at his sweet gesture and looked up when she heard him approach with a laden tray.

"Honestly, Patrick, are you for real? This is so corny. I can't believe it."

"I thought, we'd already discussed the matter of my unctuousness in depths. But I'll gladly reminisce about your drooling, if you'd like."

"Grrr, Jaaaaaaaane, you are so infuriating. Half the time, I'm really not sure whether to kiss you or punch you. But since you're carrying food…come here." She beckoned him to her with an alluring gesture of her forefinger.

He complied and sat down the tray, which contained a plate with an enormous stack of apple pancakes, a bowl filled with the caramelized mixture he'd prepared, and a bottle of maple syrup. Furthermore, he'd brought water and glasses. She cast him an expectant glance and he carried on setting the table. He lit the candles and took one of the empty plates. After a questioning look at Teresa and a nod from her, he put three pancakes on it, topped them with the stuffing, wrapped them, and sprinkled them with the syrup. He handed her the plate and prepared one for himself as well, taking a seat close to her side on the couch afterwards.

The only thing audible was her appreciative groan after the first fork full of food had found its way into her mouth. After that, both ate in companionable and rather voracious silence.

When they'd both eaten their fill, Lisbon leaned back on the couch and sighed in contentment. "That was just what I needed, thank you. But do you know, what would make this really perfect, Patrick?"

He shook his head no. Then he donned his 'I'm-just-getting-a-message-from-the-above' face, looked at her with the proper unseeing eyes of his old act as well and started, "More coffee, would be my first guess, but I'm not sure. Wait, no, not coffee, definitely not coffee." He tilted his head slightly. "Let's see…yes, I can sense something…full, yet hungry still somehow, oh, clearly exasperated, though that's a new development, pupils slightly dilated, obviously you're seeing something you like. Mmh, interesting. So, what else?" He tapped a finger to his lips in mock thoughtfulness. "Ah, yes, there's a romantic setting, candle light, flowers, a tremendously handsome man close by… Oh, I'm getting a very strong reading right now… Ah, yes. Got it. You want me to cuddle with you on the sofa." He ended his act smiling proudly.

"Hahaha, why don't I just make you my spiritual consultant – you are soooooooo amazing, oh psychic one." He was sporting his most impish grin now. "God, Jane, how old are you? You're so ridiculous at times." She rolled her eyes. With a clear challenge in her tone she added, "If you were a man, Jane, and not some half-cocked mentalist, you'd just DO it instead of talking about it."

"Nicely played, Lisbon. You thought you had me there, that I'd just raise to the bait, right?"

She nodded with a pout.

He smirked. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but, as I've already granted you first-hand knowledge of my formidable virility – pun intended, by the way - that particular challenge doesn't work anymore."

She couldn't help but chuckle in fond remembrance of their last encounter in the shower.

He continued to gaze at her with a snooty expression. "Furthermore, unfortunately I've places to be and things to do. There's a kitchen to clean and a dishwasher to fill. I'm afraid my duties are aplenty. No time to be idle. The mistress of the house is a very demanding woman." She grinned smugly and he continued, "And just between the two of us: she's scary. She even owns a gun. I wouldn't want to ruffle her feathers."

Before he was done talking, she had taken a hold of his arms and pulled him half on top of her. "Damn right, mister. And don't you ever forget that. Now, snuggle with me or face the consequences of my wrath." He complied eagerly.

* * *

They ended up in almost the same position they'd woken up in, Teresa sprawled on top him. At first, they shared some deep-mouthed languid kisses. After a while they just lay there, fondling each other in a relaxed way. She was the one to break the silence at last. One of her hands had found its way into his hair and she tousled it gently. "I really love your curls – they're just as unruly as you are."

He smiled and said, in a patronizing voice, "Yes, my dear, an erudite would call this pars pro toto, you know."

"Smart-ass. But for your information, I actually know some Latin – so, I'm not too impressed." She ruffled his hair some more and admired the view. "Right now, you look quite a bit like the first time we met, Patrick. I like it."

"Funny you'd say that. Because, if I don't remember incorrectly – and we both know, just how likely that is – you expressly told me to clean up at the time," he teased her.

A fond smile took over her face, when that particular memory came to the forefront of her mind. "Frankly, you were quite a mess back then and you looked the part as well."

"No kidding. If you'd had even the slightest idea just how unstable I was at the time – you'd never have let me accompany you anywhere, poor aggrieved mourning spouse or not. I felt so low, half the time I wasn't even sure how to keep myself upright. I couldn't sleep a wink back then, and if it hadn't been for the anti-depressants I was still taking at the time, I don't think I would have been able to function at all."

His eyes took on a faraway look and he absently continued rubbing small circles on her back. "I had only left the psychiatric ward two days prior to my appearance at the CBI and your assessment of my homeless vibes was spot-on: I'd been living in my car, basically. But you know what?" He shook his head as if to clear it and focused his eyes on her again. "I'm quite sure, you actually saved my life when you asked for my assistance closing that case. It was the first time since Angela's and Charlotte's death that I let myself hope. I could still have a purpose. Have I ever really thanked you for that?"

"No, not explicitly, but you've shown me – well, in that very special Patrick Jane kind of way, anyhow."

They both grinned at that before she continued, "But you could actually do something to further demonstrate your gratitude."

At his suggestive look she slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Jane. I didn't mean any sexual services. Honestly, men! Such one-tracked minds, the whole lot of you."

Contrasting her words, she leaned down and gave him a short kiss. "No, what I want as a token of your gratitude is the truth, actually. Ever since I got to know you better, I've asked myself whether you provoked Agent Hannigan on purpose or not that day. So, come clean. Now, Jane," she demanded.

Patrick laughed heartily at that. "Wouldn't you like to know…. Well, it's only fair, I guess. It's the very reason you're saddled with me, after all… Though, honestly, Teresa, deep down you already know the truth, don't you?"

She looked a bit doubtful as she said, " Well, I have an inkling…"

"Always trust your instincts, Agent Lisbon. I've told you so, many times." He shook his head as if disappointed with her. "But to put you out of your misery, of course I did it on purpose. I knew I wouldn't get anywhere with you under normal circumstances. I might have been a mess, but, hey, I was still a conman." He shrugged his shoulders. "I could see the deep compassion in your whole demeanor while talking to me. But you wanted to protect me by keeping me from the gory horrors in those files. To me, they were the only thing keeping me going."

For a moment he was silent, deep in thought. "So I had to act, I had to increase your sense of sympathy. And making myself the poor victim of some unjustifiable assault seemed the best way to achieve that. You made it very easy for me, when you asked that brute Hannigan to accompany me. That he patronized me without showing even a hint of real feeling took away my last relics of doubt. He positively irked me. Provoking him into punching me was a piece of cake, really."

Jane looked sheepish before continuing, "The guy was a loose canon. I was actually just warming up - I hadn't even delivered my best barbs when the bastard knocked me out. In fact you should thank me on your knees every day for getting rid of him. Anyway, in the aftermath all I had to do was milk the situation for all it was worth, and Virgil, the softy, was even easier to play than you." He smiled fondly thinking of their ex-boss and she joined in.

"Can't say, it surprises me… I've suspected it for a long time now. Still, thank you for your honesty. And for the record, I don't particularly like to be played, Jane."

"That's where you are wrong, my dear. You DO like to be played – I do it all the time and in the end, I always make you smile. And for the record, I love that smile." He tenderly brushed her hair back from her face.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Okay, I admit, I do enjoy those little games of yours once in a while, but I positively HATE the big ones, Jane."

"I know that, Teresa. I'll try to let you in and play with me more often, but no promises."

"That's more than I expected actually, so I'll take it." She considered for a moment. "And to be honest – I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you just the way you are after all. Which brings me right back to these unruly curls of yours…" she said, tousling them some more.

"What is it with you and this obsession with my hair? I still don't understand why you insisted so vehemently on me taming it if you like it so much unkempt?" he asked in bewilderment.

Never stopping her ruffling, she answered, with a defiant expression, "Well, if we were to go to work today, I would have still asked you to curb it. But we're at home and here I can enjoy it like this. On the job, your groomed curls are the only thing giving me at least the illusion of you being manageable, Jane."

He laughed out loud. "God, I love you, Teresa. That's just so cute. Way to twist around that whole pars-pro-toto-thing. Doesn't work too well though, does it?" An evil grin accompanied his last words. Then he caught her face gently between his hands, pulling her into a deep kiss, efficiently ending her pout and eliciting a moan from her instead.

One of his hands wandered down and pushed up her tank top, before his fingertips started a slow decent along her spine, ending at the small of her back, and finding one of her most sensitive spots with sure precision.

* * *

**TBC**

**Please leave a review. I'm sure, the universe will consider it your good deed for the day ;-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: Some sexual content in this chapter.**

**Please leave a little review – whether brickbats or bouquets, I'll appreciate them.**

* * *

Arousal hit her like a sledgehammer and her kissing turned frantic. He flipped them over, in a skillful maneuver considering they were lying on a couch, so he was on top of her, his legs straddling her and carrying his weight so he wouldn't crush her. He motioned for her to raise her arms above her head so he could pull off her top. At a whim, he left it tangling around her wrists, binding her hands together. Not strong enough to really restrain her if she wanted to extricate herself, but as a signal to her, that he wished to have free reign of her body.

To her surprise this proved to be a massive turn-on. She felt nearly overwhelmed with sudden need, and he provided her with exquisite torture. He sucked and licked and kissed and stroked in all the right places, pushing all her buttons and all the while keeping her just on the edge of orgasm.

Later she could recall that she reached a whole new level of sexual awareness at the time. She was all nerves and lust and arousal, her whole mind filled with Patrick and the immense pleasure he brought her. When he finally divested her of her sleep-pants and used his tongue and fingers to further stimulate her core, she cried out helplessly, succumbed to her release with total abandon and lost all conscious thought for a while.

When she came to again, it was to her lover watching her face intensely. He looked like the cat that got the cream. Well he had in a way, she thought.

She had to admit, he had every reason to be smug. Though he couldn't know it of course - but she suspected he did anyway - he was the only man who'd ever managed to make her black out like that. He was an amazing lover, that was for sure. She knew she had been played by a master, but for once she didn't mind it at all. She was absolutely certain that in this case he had done it without a hidden agenda. He honestly loved her, and that made all the difference. She didn't feel manipulated but appreciated, and she knew she was one lucky woman.

She freed her hands, grabbed a hold of his curls, and pulled him into a sensual kiss. She could still taste herself in his mouth and decided she quite liked the combination.

After breaking the kiss she looked him deep in the eyes and said seriously, "I love you, Patrick. And I'll always love you – no matter what. Please, don't ever forget that."

He obviously didn't want the situation to turn too maudlin, so he answered, "Memory; fortress. Rings a bell?" When she hit him lightly on the chest with her flat hand and rolled her eyes, he added with a smile, "Well, for the record, I love you too, Teresa. And I'd be very grateful if that sieve you call a brain could retain that information for future reference."

"Jerk," she said playfully. "I guess, we just re-established the fact that you don't like emotional women."

"Depends on the emotion, dear. I liked you just fine all hot and bothered," he teased her, and then pecked her on the lips. In another precise maneuver, Jane returned them to their previous position with her on top of him.

"I would say you're welcome to bother me whenever you want but I think you already do that anyway," Lisbon added cheekily.

* * *

They lay like that, just holding each other close. After a while, Patrick noticed goosebumps appearing on her naked back. "Are you cold, my love?" he asked quietly.

"Maybe a bit. Just not really used to lying around naked all day, I guess. But it's very comfy as well," she sighed. "Still, it would probably be a good idea to get up soon. Not very romantic, but I have to wash some clothes – I didn't find the time to do so the whole week and I'll be out of clean clothes soon."

He caressed her cheek lightly, and then started rubbing her back to keep her warm. "Hmh, yeah. I should probably do some washing of my own as well. And I still have that kitchen to clean."

She shook her head. "No, let me do that. You did all the cooking."

"I don't mind, Teresa, really."

"Still. It's the principal of the thing," she said with determination.

He chuckled. "Yes, a very principled woman, our Agent Lisbon. Well, if you must… But in that case I'll just give the bathroom a wipe-down."

Suddenly he paled. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Teresa. It didn't even register until right now. I really don't know how I could be so scatterbrained. I'm so sorry."

She looked at him in complete bafflement. "Would you care to elaborate what the hell you're talking about? I have no idea, and frankly, you're scaring me."

He didn't answer immediately but seemed to be lost in deep contemplation. She shook him lightly to get his attention: "Jane. Talk to me. What's the matter? I'm getting worried here."

A moment later he breathed out a sigh of relief and she finally got his attention. "Sorry, love. I just had to make a few calculations and I think we'll be okay." He resumed the back-rubbing he'd stopped while in thought.

She was really miffed by now. "I still don't have the slightest idea, what you're on about, Jane. What happened? You were fine, just talking about the bathroom and then out of the blue, you…" That's when she suddenly blanched and her eyes widened in shock: "Oh…"

"My thoughts exactly. But I think, we'll be alright this time around. You just had your monthlies, so it should've been safe enough. Still, I'm sorry – it was unbelievably reckless and I apologize for behaving like a randy teenager," he explained, blushing a little.

"I was there too, remember? It didn't occur to me either, so stop apologizing. But how the hell do you know my menstrual cycle, Jane?" Now it was her turn to blush.

"Come on, Lisbon. What do you think? I'm a mentalist. I wouldn't be worth a thing if I didn't even recognize things such as this in the women close to me. It might disturb you – but I'm actually quite familiar with Van Pelt's as well. Have been for years, in fact." He paused a moment before adding, "Incidentally, I've been living with you for two weeks. Even if I hadn't known before, it would have been inexcusably unperceptive not to register it then, wouldn't it?"

She nodded a bit hesitantly. She felt slightly indignant, especially on behalf of poor Grace, and in the name of her past self as well. It wasn't very comforting to realize, just how little she'd ever been able to keep hidden from him.

In another demonstration of his perception, he continued, "I've made you uncomfortable now. I'm sorry, Teresa. I can't help it. I just register stuff like that. It's become second nature – I can't really stop it. It's been drummed into me from an early age – literally. So I'm afraid you'll just have to live with it." He cast an apologetic glance at her. Then he continued impishly, "It's not all bad, though. You'll discover, now that you're more aware of it, that I'm particularly nice and well-behaved when you are at your most hormonal. Just this past week, I was a real angel, wasn't I? I have a strong sense of self-preservation after all."

"Oh, really?!" She punched him lightly. "It certainly doesn't look like that from where I stand." She decided to punch him once more for good measure. "Well, at least you have your facts right, Patrick. In plain language and in the name of total transparency – yes, I haven't had my ovulation yet, so conception isn't possible right now."

He smiled warmly. "Isn't it nice, that we could discuss this in such a mature, responsible and all together grown-up manner? Very dignified. Such a contrast to the behavior leading to the necessity of having such a conversation in the first place…" He ran his hands down her back, making her shiver for reasons not at all related to the cool air. "In the same spirit," he continued, settling his hands higher up on her back, "and just so you know, even though I certainly used a condom back then, I actually went to see a doctor after that whole Vegas-disaster. So you can rest assured – I'm in complete health, well, physically at least… the rest is still a bit debatable, I guess…"

She kissed him lightly, a silent gesture of her appreciation. "Wow, you actually saw a doctor? All on your own? Without being mortally wounded? I'm impressed."

He chuckled. "Well, I certainly wasn't mortally wounded at the time, but my overprotective boss insisted on a visit to the hospital anyway after I took that friendly little beating in the desert, so I could just as well ask the nice doctors to take some extra tests… I mean, I wouldn't have put it past that bastard… I didn't really think so, but one can never be too sure… It wouldn't have been his style and he obviously enjoys playing cat and mouse with me too much, but, well…" Jane shook his head. "Enough of this unsavory topic. Let's get up and do something productive.

* * *

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope that everybody had a very merry Christmas. **

**Warning: Some serious fluff ahead, but things will become a bit more complicated soon...**

* * *

They did just that. Teresa found some comfy clothes that were a bit warmer first. Then she filled her washer and went to fetch their dishes from the sitting room and clean up the kitchen, while Patrick went to the bathroom to do some cleaning of his own. When she was finished with her tasks, about half an hour later, she went to the bathroom where she found him still giving the sanitary facilities a strenous cleaning.

"You certainly got the short end of the stick, Patrick. You didn't even leave much of a mess in the kitchen. And you've been the one cleaning there all week, every time you prepared food."

He straightened himself from the crouch he'd been in while scrubbing the bathtub and turned around to look at her. "I told you, I don't mind. I'm perfectly willing to share the chores and I'm not going to start charging things up against each other. I'm very thankful you allow me to live here with you. It's the least I can do."

He'd donned a form-fitting black t-shirt before starting his cleaning and now that he was standing, she could see it had a custom print on. It read 'They call me a genius because I am one!' She had to laugh out loud after noticing it. "Oh my god – were did you get that shirt? It's brilliant. I simply love it."

He looked sheepishly down at himself, obviously just now recognizing what he was wearing. "Oops. I just grabbed the first black one I came across in my bag. I… my wi… Angela gave it to me, actually, to tease me for being such a smart-ass all the time. It's nothing specifically meaningful, but somehow I couldn't ever bring myself to chuck it out. I hope you don't mind…"

"Of course not, Patrick. I would never ask you to renounce your family. They are an important part of you and they'll always be. You loved them…you still do. And they loved you before I could, and that makes me feel connected to them on a very deep level. I know you don't believe in an afterlife, but if there was one, I know with absolute certainty, that Angela and Charlotte would be very happy to see that you've finally allowed yourself to love someone again, and most importantly, that you let someone else love you again." She came closer and searched for his eyes. "I want you to know that you're always welcome to talk about them with me. It's a standing invitation, not an obligation to do so. I just want you to know that I'm perfectly comfortable with it."

She could see that he was fighting back tears. He stood there looking very lost and – probably out of habit, as he hadn't really allowed himself to be receptive to outside physical contact during the last nine years – he hugged himself with both arms.

She couldn't bear to see him like that and with two big steps she overcame the last distance between them. She unclenched his arms and put them around her waist, before she did the same with her own arms around his, holding him in her embrace as close as possible. After a short moment she felt his arms actively returning the gesture and she let out a relieved sigh at that.

She started to rub his back in a comforting manner and could feel the tension leaving him. She looked up at his face and saw, that a few tears had escaped his eyes, but the sad and lost expression wasn't visible anymore. He smiled a bit actually. "I love you, Teresa. Thank you for putting up with me and all my baggage. You have been very understanding. It can't be easy…"

"Maybe it's not. But you're more than worth it, Patrick. And I have my emotional scars as well. You know that. Therefore, I'm sure, you'll get ample opportunity to return the favor at one point or another. We'll pull through together – we've already been doing that for years. It'll just be much easier from now on, because we're even closer. I've got your back, you've got mine."

She came up on her toes to kiss him as if to seal the deal. She wiped away the remnants of his tears with her thumbs, before they exchanged a deep look of mutual understanding.

"Now, genius, how about finishing with the bathroom together in the spirit of our newfound cooperation? What's left to do, anyway? It looks pretty clean in here to me."

"Well, I finished with the shower walls, but the tub isn't fully done yet. I've already done both the sink, the mirror, the vanity, and the bath tub as well. The toilet's left and the floor, of course. So, take your pick. Though I suggest, we leave the floor until the very end for obvious reasons."

She went over to the toilet and they finished the rest of the chores in companionable silence, only exchanging work-related words. She insisted on mopping the floor so he went to the kitchen to make tea for them.

* * *

When they sat together on the couch afterwards enjoying their warm beverages, they admitted to each other, how much they both relished this shared domesticity.

After a while, Teresa ventured, "I wouldn't mind for you to move in with me permanently, Patrick. I know it might be a bit soon, but I think we've already pretty much passed the test-drive during the last two weeks, wouldn't you agree?" He nodded happily and she continued. "You've been an excellent roomie so far. I don't expect any major problems."

"A real pity about the new bed in your guest-room though. A total waste in fact," he said cockily.

She smirked. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Jane. I'm sure, you'll manage to annoy me enough to ban you from our bedroom on a regular basis. Be glad you'll have a real bed then and not just the couch."

"Our bedroom, Teresa?" he asked with a ridiculously hopeful expression.

"Yes, our bedroom. Or did you think I would go back to sleeping on my own now that I've found out what a great pillow you make, hotshot? I think not. And I've already told you, I like to cuddle. Well, among other things. A very hard business to accomplish with you in another room. So yes, our bedroom," she said with conviction.

He seemed very pleased. "I like the sound of that. But for the record: I'm an insomniac. I might disturb you."

"Oh, I'm sure, you'll be perfectly considerate. I don't expect any less from you. I might have indicated otherwise last night, but I'm actually a pretty sound sleeper, so don't worry too much about it. We'll find a viable solution for the both of us."

"You know, all of this? It sounds too good to be true. Any minute now, I'm expecting to wake up and realize this is nothing but a perfect dream. I mean, the last 24 hours haven't been an all around picnic by any means, but this, here," he gestured between them, "being with you, that's just completely… I don't know… fantastic? Imagine, I'm actually at a loss for words. Well, suffice it to say, I haven't been so happy in a decade. I never expected to ever be that happy again. Never expected to allow myself to be, in fact. You make me happy, Teresa, very much so, and I love you, I really do."

"We're getting dangerously sappy again here, Patrick – but I don't mind. I love you too, my cuddly teddy bear. And I'm happy as well," she smiled at him.

"Did you just call me a teddy bear, Lisbon? A cuddly one? You know what that means, don't you? It means WAR."

A mischievous expression took over his face. Flashing into action, he tackled her to the floor, restraining her legs with the weight of his body as he was straddling her, her arms were kept captive by one of his hands above her head. And then he began to tickle her mercilessly. She didn't have the whiff of a chance to defend herself, so slap-bang had the attack been.

Her last thought before succumbing to hysterical, helpless laughter was, that she was a disgrace to the name of cop, having been subdued like that by her untrained consultant. After that she could think no more, between the fits of laughter and the tears running down her face. He didn't stop until she was gasping for breath and begging for mercy.

"Do you surrender, Agent Lisbon?" he asked sternly.

She groaned. "Yes. Please, stop, please."

"Do I look cuddly to you?" he inquired, sporting a wicked smile.

"No. Jane, Please, stop." She was still trying to catch her breath. I'll even call you evil incarnate, if that is what it takes. I'm dying here."

"You're still entirely too coherent for my taste, being able to talk that much. I doubt you're really repentant yet…" he trailed off and took up his tickling again.

"No, Patrick, please, stop. I mean it," she gasped between words. "You'll sleep in the guest room tonight," she threatened, pressing out the words between hiccups of laughter.

"I don't think you're in any position to demand anything, Agent Lisbon." His fingers scratched light across her sides and skittered across her belly. "You better watch what you're saying." He relented slightly to allow her the breath to speak. "Now repeat after me: Patrick Jane is NOT a teddy bear in any way or form."

She did so with a look of disgust on her face.

"And now: Patrick Jane is NOT cuddly."

She aped him aptly this time when repeating the words.

"Okay, you asked for it now, Lisbon. Copy that: Patrick Jane is my master and I, Teresa Lisbon, will be his humble servant."

"Forget it, Jane. Never going to happen. I'd rather be tickled to death," she spat.

"As you wish…" he said evilly and resumed his tickling with ardor.

A few minutes later she was completely breathless, her stomach ached from laughing and tears were flowing down her cheeks. She gasped, "Stop, please, stop. I give up, Jane. Just stop please. I'll do whatever you are asking of me, just stop."

"See, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" he mocked her. "And I'll even be reasonable and only demand your total submission to me for the space of a kiss at a time of my choice. And I sincerely hope that this act of clemency won't be classified as being cuddly."

With that he released her, got to his feet, and helped her up on her still rather unstable legs, her breathing only slowly getting back to normal.

She glared at him. "I never expected you to sink so low, Jane. That was blackmail, you bastard."

"I think we can safely say, that we've come a long way from your previous terms of abuse now, so mission accomplished." He smirked.

She looked at him in open defiance.

He sniggered. "Careful there, Lisbon. Remember, I can read your mind. And I know exactly, what you were thinking just now."

"No you don't," she said with conviction.

"Yes, I do. You just thought: 'Ha! Gotcha! Since you can't really read minds, I can still safely THINK of you as a cuddly teddy bear!' Is that about right, Teresa?"

She pouted openly now. "Damn you, Jane. You know, you're really creepy sometimes. How the hell did you know that?"

"Our minds are in synch, that's how. I've told you so before, didn't I? You were projecting your thoughts directly to me, actually more like screaming them. All I had to do was verbalize them, and voilà, there we go." His snooty tone was accompanied by a disparaging wave of his hand, obviously meant to mock her.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop a smile from finding its way to her mouth. "You are so full of it, Jane. But somehow I have a real problem resisting you, and I don't have the slightest idea how you do that. You are SO infuriating and still all I want to do is kiss you. You and your damn charms," she exclaimed, before fisting his shirt-front and pulling him down into a lip-lock – and in that instance he didn't defy her at all.

* * *

**TBC**

**Please review - and be certain that your opinion really matters.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: Things are getting a bit angsty now... but not too much yet...**

* * *

Later, when they'd resumed their seats on the sofa holding hands and drinking freshly brewed tea, she sighed. "I hate to say it, Patrick, but I'm actually starting to get hungry again. And I have to peg out my washing – it's still standing in the laundry all wet, and your wash should be ready as well by now. How about a division of labor? You can go on and order us some take-out while I take care of our washing? Or do you feel like actually cooking again today?"

"Nah, not really. Take-out's fine. Any preferences?" he asked.

"You tell me, oh psychic one," she mocked him.

He grinned. "I get no clear reading concerning food from you right now – your mind's too occupied thinking about pegging my underwear."

She gave him yet another cuff. "You are such a jerk, Jane. How many slaps do you intend to earn yourself today, anyway? I've stopped counting after the first dozen…"

Rubbing his abused shoulder in indignation he said, "Just get a move on now, woman. Do your female chores and leave the hunt to me."

This of course earned him another punch, but they both had to grin at each other afterwards. They got up. Jane went to the kitchen where Lisbon kept the flyers from at least ten different take-out places pinned to the fridge, each neatly labeled with the dos and don'ts on the menu. She went to the laundry.

After a while she heard him call from the kitchen: "Pasta and salad alright with you, love?"

Her heart rejoiced in the endearment. He'd been very unreserved with terms of endearment all day and while she wouldn't admit it to him – even under torture, well tickling would obviously be a problem, but… - she loved the open tokens of affection he was bestowing on her. She would've liked to return the favor, but she wasn't sure what he would be comfortable with – well, teddy bear was definitely out – apparently. She would have to ponder it some more.

Now, however, answering him was her first priority. "That sounds fine, Patrick. But no garlic."

She heard his short laugh and had to grin herself, even more so when she heard his answering shout. "Don't worry, my dear. No garlic for any one of us – I want to kiss you some more too."

Shaking her head with a fond smile on her face she continued with her chore.

* * *

He came into the room a short time later and started to help her after a peck on her mouth in passing. "Food should be here in approximately 35 minutes. I've opened a bottle of red wine – I hope you don't mind. You remember that flashy carafe you keep hidden in the back of your cupboard?" She nodded a bit haltingly. "Well, I poured the wine into it, you know, for decantation."

"You really are such a snob, Jane. Decantation? Honestly? Do I even own any wine worth treating that way?" she teased him as she slipped a shirt onto a hanger.

"Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon… Do you truly believe I would touch any of those substandard concoctions you're keeping in stock? Honestly, woman. I'm a connoisseur." He began sorting socks and underwear, lingering over a particularly lacy pair of Lisbon's. "What you will be imbibing tonight is a 2007 Rubicon Pennino Zinfandel. The fragrance a touch of white pepper and raspberry, the flavor blueberries, blackberries, spices and a hint of heather. And trust me: It's more than worth decanting." His face was a picture of pleasant anticipation.

"Do I even want to know how much you paid for it?" she asked.

"Nope." He grinned. "And I won't tell you either, because that way you'll probably imagine a price much, much higher than what it actually cost. But trust me on this: It's probably one of the best wines you've ever tasted. You will like it, I'm sure. It's the kind of wine you prefer."

She shook her head. "Yeah, sure. Sometimes it feels like you know more about my likings than I do. Isn't that a bit presumptuous?"

"Meh, I just know you very well, Teresa. We've shared so many meals over the years. I'm sure you know quite a lot about my preferences as well. You just don't make a habit of pointing it out, because you aren't an annoying know-it-all like yours truly." He was busy pairing up the socks but still noticed when she rolled her eyes. "For instance: You are the only person – well, apart from myself of course – who knows how to make my tea exactly the way I like it."

She still looked rather doubtful, so he tried to convince her some more. "Why do you think we're so comfortable around each other, hm? Nearly no awkwardness, flawless co-operation, excellent understanding…"

"Geez, Jane, that sounded just like that horrible team-building manual Bertram distributed last week," she chipped in.

He smirked. "Well love, that's because I nicked it from there…"

"YOU actually read AND memorized that crap?" she said, completely incredulous.

"Guess I was bored. But anyway, what I wanted to say, before I was so rudely interrupted – you ever had that kind of understanding with someone after not even one day as a couple? Not likely. We already know about each others' quirks and idiosyncrasies, we've seen the other through ups and downs. We bicker like a married couple – that's at least what the guys in technical support say." He shrugged his shoulders as if to emphasize that it wasn't really a big deal. "So in a way, we've already been together for quite a long time. Half the people at the CBI actually think that we've been having sex for years. I feel very familiar with you. We are practically hand in glove. And by the way," he added, sotto voice, "I'm the hand in that picture."

She had to process his words for a moment, her hands stilled. "You really think that people at work believe us to be intimate? But no one's ever let on to it."

"Not to YOUR face, no… Don't worry about it, love. It's actually a good thing, isn't it? Now, that we're finally doing it, nobody will even know the difference, or, if they do, they'll just assume we're in an especially touchy-feely-phase or something. They've all wondered what kind of impact the six months of separation have had on our relationship anyway. They'll think we're just making up for lost time," he tried to reassure her.

"How can they even think something like that?" She turned to face him squarely, brushing aside the though of his six month absense, not quite ready to be reminded of it again. "I mean, okay, we might bicker and alright, we are partners and work together closely, but hey, we barely ever even touch at work. Don't they have enough to do? What's it to them, anyway?" She was miffed now.

"Teresa, please be reasonable. There's always going to be gossip where people work together closely. It's called office gossip for a reason." He put his hands on her shoulders, attempting to calm her. "It doesn't matter though. They don't matter, we do," he said.

She wasn't ready yet and shrugged his hands off. "No, Jane. It's just not right. These are my colleagues, we are talking about, most of them even my subordinates, and they are picturing me in bed with my consultant and afterwards they're making friendly small-talk with me? That's just… arrgh."

He was a bit amused at her outrage but tried not to let it show. "There's absolutely nothing 'arrgh' about us in bed, but that's beside the point. Teresa, they don't mean any disrespect. It's natural curiosity," he explained. "Mainly, it's because they can't imagine why else you would put up with me."

"Well, you do close cases," she said, automatically falling back to her usual line on the matter.

"That I do. But honestly, that explanation grew old years ago… And let's face it, there have been certain vibes between us for years. I would know – I've fought my feelings for you for a long time now." He looked at her with such openness there was no denying the truth in his words. "And let's be honest, the same goes for you. We've been dancing around each other – it's not so surprising other people might've picked up on it as well."

* * *

Patrick paused a moment, taking in her worried face. But she had to admit that he was right. She had been in love with him for years and though she hadn't been sure, she'd always hoped that he returned her feelings. Until maybe two or three years ago however, he'd been totally unavailable emotionally, still too devoted to his wife's memory and, possibly even to a larger degree, to his guilt. But she'd seen the changes, most prominent ever since he'd killed Timothy Carter.

She'd watched the events unfolding on the films from the security cameras. Since she knew him so well, she'd seen that it hadn't by any means been cold-blooded murder. He had pulled the trigger – no doubts about it. But she'd seen his face. He'd been desperate and broken, but he'd still not killed the man while he had his back turned to him in leaving. No, he'd needed to face him, face the man he had at that moment believed to be his family's killer. And he'd been torn. In the end she was sure he had been a bit surprised himself that he'd actually managed to shoot at all. And his actions afterwards, going back to his table, finishing his tea and even paying for it – whoever knew the man would've realized he wasn't cool and collected at all, or uncaring about murdering someone in cold blood. No, she'd seen it quite clearly: He'd been in a state of complete and utter shock and he had simply acted on autopilot.

If that hadn't been the case, she was sure she wouldn't be here with him now. That day, as contradictory as it might sound, he'd proven to her, that he WASN'T able to turn into a cold-blooded killer, not even when faced with his nemesis. He might still claim that he would do it, but she knew now that he wasn't cut out for it. And she knew, that he knew it too, somewhere deep down. Hell, he had killed Carter with three quick, clean shots. That was rather far off from cutting him open and letting him bleed to death in sufferance, like he'd always plighted he would.

Furthermore, it had also taught him that murdering Red John wouldn't give him the satisfaction he'd thought it would. In that way, killing Carter had in fact brought some kind of closure to him, in a twisted sort of manner.

Some of his behavior in the aftermath of it had worried her immensely, namely his willingness to walk on an even slimmer tightrope when it came to morality. But on the other hand he'd somehow started the slow process of moving on as well. And that had led them to this point, where they'd finally been able to confess their love for each other. So yes, he was right, they had been working towards this goal for quite a while.

"You are right, I guess," she finally said. "We may have probably acted in ways that might have the potential of making people believe that we could possibly be in some kind of relationship. But I don't believe for a minute, that we were that obvious about it, Patrick. They're just awful gossip mongers – the whole lot of them." She huffed out a breath of annoyance. "I've never given any clear indication that I am intimate with you - or even in love with you for that matter! They just have one-track minds," she said resolutely.

He sighed. She could tell he was contemplating his next words carefully.

"Spit it out, Jane."

"Okay." He glanced down in hesitation, then barreled on. "I hate to bring him up right now, but I'm afraid even Red John knows about our feelings for each other. Why else would he have asked for YOUR head?" He reached up and carefully brushed her hair back off her shoulder, then gently pushed it behind her ear. Sadness briefly crossed his face – he couldn't stand the thought her being in danger. He continued, "Lorelei even called me out on it - you heard it yourself when you were listening in on the interview. So let's be frank. We both knew it and most people around us did as well."

She nodded hesitantly and pressed her cheek into his palm. She secretly admitted to herself, that he was most certainly right, as he continued, "For a number of different reasons, we decided not to act on our feelings before last night. I don't regret taking that last step, and I honestly don't give a damn, what others might think or imagine." He smiled now. "If they want to picture us in bed – well, who can blame them? We make a damn hot couple after all, don't we?" He winked at her. "And fortunately, I'm the only one who really knows what you hide under your work clothes." He thought about those lacy panties he'd just folded. "So forget it, love. Just ignore it."

She had to smile a bit at that. "We ARE pretty hot together, aren't we?" Her hips briefly canted toward his, seemingly of their own volition.

He chuckled and went on, "The team's never taken part in the gossiping, by the way. I thought, you should know." He began brushing his fingers through her hair, thoughtfully. "And they're actually the only ones who'll probably recognize the differences now. Especially Cho. Maybe we should tell them soon." He paused and looked at her earnestly. "But it's up to you. I'll leave that decision to you. I don't mind either way, but I do know how important your job is to you, and the respect and regard of your colleagues. I can imagine it's not easy, especially for a woman in your position in law enforcement. And you've invested a lot to get that far. I'll accept your terms on that matter and I'll play it exactly the way you want me to. Just please, don't let any stupid rumors get in the way of our happiness, Teresa."

"You are one to talk. For someone allegedly so supportive, I must say you haven't done much to improve my position at the CBI." The lighter mood clouded over now. "It's a miracle, I still HAVE a job. So don't you dare tell me what I have to do or risk," she said quite annoyed.

He looked truly hurt by her words and it was evident in his voice. "But I just said, I'm NOT going to butt into any decision you make. I'm not telling you what to do. On the contrary, I offered my support for whatever YOU decide. I'm sorry if it came out wrong somehow. I… Please, Teresa, I… please don't! I mean, I'm sorry." He turned to leave the laundry.

She caught his arm to stop him. "Don't you dare leave this room now. Look at me, Patrick."

He followed her order immediately, something she was extremely glad about. That he'd obviously forced his features into a blank mask however, she didn't appreciate quite as much.

"I'm sorry too, Patrick. I overreacted. Not that what I said isn't true…," she softened her voice, "but I did catch onto the fact that you were extending a hand. And I shouldn't have reproached you for past events like that either. It's always been MY decision to hold onto you – I can hardly blame YOU for that."

She saw his features relax a bit. She continued, trying to sound reasonable. "Still, you have made things extra difficult for me on many occasions. We both know that. And in a way, that has a certain impact on the situation we are in now. I have to think on in, Patrick. Right now I have no idea how to play this. Or what would be sensible and what not. Give me some time. This is still so fresh, I've barely had a minute to comprehend it yet."

He nodded, now at least sporting a somewhat anxious expression instead of hiding behind a look of casualness. "As I said, I will abide by your decision. You call the shots here. Does that mean that you want to call this…," he waved a hand between himself and Lisbon, "off for a while?"

She shook her head in exasperation. "No, Patrick. It didn't even cross my mind. Was THAT what had you so worried? That's the reason you pulled up that stupid mask? Because you were preparing for me to break it up?" She shook her head in annoyance. "Sometimes, you really are an idiot, Jane. I just GOT you. I'm sure as hell NOT going to give you up again any time soon."

At this point she had to stop speaking, because she was pulled into a fierce hug.

They were saved from further drama by the door bell ringing.

* * *

**TBC**

**I really appreciate feedback. So please leave a little something for me. I don't know why so few people reviewed the last chapters. It would really help me to know that you enjoy what you read or why you don't.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**I wish everyone a very happy New Year! ... and as my final gift in 2012 another chapter for you. If you returned the gesture with a little review, I would be much obliged.**

**Warning: Things are getting pretty angsty for a while now...**

* * *

"Ah, our food! I'll take care of it," Patrick said and rushed out of the room, glad to escape the awkwardness of the situation.

Teresa stayed a moment longer, and leaned against the still slightly warm dryer, feeling a bit sad. She'd honestly thought that out of the two of them, she would be the one with insecurities regarding HIS commitment. Obviosuly that wasn't the case. It wouldn't be easy, but they had to have a talk about this soon. They had to nip this in the bud because it had the potential of beoming an issue at work if he continued to question their relationship whenever she gave the slightest indication that there might be a problem. She had a strong suspicion where all this came from and she had every intention of calling him out on it.

Shaking her head, she made her way out of the laundry room. The smell of tomato sauce greeted her from the kitchen and she followed her nose, sure to find a certain someone there as well.

"Saved by the bell there, Patrick?" she said. He looked a bit sheepish, and she gently added, "Make no mistake – that conversation isn't over by any means. We need to talk this through – but food first."

"Yes to both, I guess," he sighed. "Where do you want to eat, Teresa?"

"Oh, in bed, most definitely. I already wanted to have breakfast there, but you of course, had to lead me astray to one of your beloved couches," she teased him to lighten the mood and let him off the hook for the moment.

He seemed relieved when he said, "I see tomato-stains in the immediate future of your duvet, but that's what washers are for, after all… How about I prepare some plates with food for us here in the kitchen to take with us to bed? I got us a salad, spinach lasagna, and pasta with seafood in tomato sauce."

"Sounds delicious. I'll get the wine and the glasses," she answered and walked over to the cupboard.

He shook his head in exasperation when he followed her actions with his eyes. "No my dear, the red wine glasses, please."

"Damn snob," she mumbled. "Anymore swanky instructions, Mr. Jane?"

He chuckled and pecked her on the cheek. "No, I'll better fix the rest myself. Don't want to risk another gaffe, do we?"

She glared at him.

"Why don't you just go ahead? I know your kitchen better than you anyway," he teased.

"I know when I'm not welcome. But hurry up, I'm starving." She stomped off.

* * *

He finished preparing their plates, grabbed some cutlery, filled a pitcher with water, got some glasses as well, and found a tray to carry everything upstairs. He came to a halt in the doorway. Teresa sat propped up against the head board on what he'd secretly already dubbed her side of the bed.

She held a filled wine glass in her hand and had her eyes closed in obvious enjoyment. "You might be a snob, Jane, but at least you actually know what you're talking about. This is so good." She breathed in deeply. "And I can really smell and taste all those flavors you mentioned. I'm impressed, really. It's heavenly. And if I know you right, you picked the food perfectly to go with the wine, didn't you?" She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

He stood in the doorway watching her and nodded, satisfaction at his success showing on his face. "Of course, my love. You didn't expect anything different from me, did you?"

"Well, what can I say? You might have many flaws," she joked, "but bad taste is not one of them. Now, pronto. I want my food," she ordered.

He entered the room fully and put the tray down beside her on the bed. "Here you are. You are a very demanding woman, Lisbon. Pretty high maintenance. But I guess, most good things come with a price."

He crawled over her to 'his' side of the bed and sat down beside her. Incidentally, the carafe and his wine glass had found their way to his bedstand, so he proceeded to pour himself a glass. He raised the glass to his and inhaled with delight. "Ah, just the way I remember it. God, it's going to be positively divine to kiss you after you've had some of it."

She snickered, both at his sophisticated behavior and his declaration. "Hold your horses, Jane. You won't get a kiss before I've eaten. Here's your plate by the way." She held it out to him. "Just imagine how I'll taste after both the wine and the food."

He grinned at that. "I don't know, Teresa. Something might be a bit fishy then."

They both had to laugh at his bad pun. She sat down her glass to have one vacant hand, which she used to stroke his cheek gently for a moment. "Enjoy your meal, Patrick."

She placed her plate on her lap, grabbed her fork and started to eat with a vigor. He followed her example.

* * *

Sometime along the way she switched on the TV on the wall opposite the bed and they watched the news. Occasionally one of them would comment on something that had happened that day, but other than that, they kept their silence. She enjoyed this very much. When he actually said something, it showed her that he was obviously up-to-date in local, national, and international politics and affairs, something she appreciated. She already knew, that he was well-versed when it came to literature and a whole range of other topics, but still, him knowing about the actual state of affairs reinforced her belief that he was actively planning for a future.

The feeling of contentment she'd woken up with returned in full force. Could life be any better? She was sitting on her bed beside the man she loved with the best glass of wine she'd ever had and the food wasn't bad either. A big, satisfied smile took over her face.

"Penny for your thoughts, Teresa," he said.

"Wow, things must go pretty badly in your business if you're ready to pay ME for divulging my thoughts now," she bantered.

He chuckled. "I liked that one, love. Very good come-back. But honestly, what are you thinking? You look very happy."

"I am happy, Patrick. That's why I look that way. It just all came to me – you here with me, the wine, the food – it's perfect," she said with a happy sigh.

"Yes, it is," he agreed.

* * *

They finished their food and set down their plates. Patrick refilled their glasses and the hands that weren't holding the drinks found each other. Their fingers intertwined, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. Her head sank down to his shoulder, and he tilted his head a bit to the side to rest his cheek against the top of her head.

They sat like that for quite some time until he suddenly got a bit restless. "Teresa, would you mind switching channels?"

"Well, I happen to like animal documentaries. This one's just started. What's the problem? I thought you enjoyed them too?" she said.

He nodded. "Yes, of course. No problem. Everything's fine."

But she could tell that nothing was fine. He'd tensed up and at a sideways glance she discovered that he'd paled.

She was just about to call him out on it, when he got up in a rush. "Would you please excuse me for a moment? I'll just go and use the bathroom. I'll be back in a few."

With that, he practically darted from the room. She switched off the TV and decided to follow him. Standing outside the closed bathroom door, she could hear sounds of retching. She barged in and found him kneeling over the toilet heaving, cold sweat was covering his forehead. She got a cold wet washcloth and wiped his face. Her hand started to stroke his back in comforting circles. He seemed to get a hold of himself with great effort – probably another demonstration of the wonders of bio-feedback, she thought.

He straighten a bit from his crouch and said huskily, "Thanks. I'm okay. I've got it under control now. Sorry for spoiling the mood. Just a slight overreaction, probably some of the food didn't agree with me. Nothing to worry about. Why don't you go back to bed? I'll just clean up a bit, brush my teeth and stuff."

She shook her had no. Then she flushed the toilet and after closing the lid, she sat down on it. "Why don't you do your clean up and I stay here with you? I won't leave you alone in that state, Patrick. That's not how this relationship is going to work." She crossed her legs as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "Get used to being pampered and cared for," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm rather sure that you would extend the same courtesy to me, should our positions be reversed."

Resigned he nodded and went to the sink. He opened the cold water tap and proceeded to bathe his face in the chilling liquid, gulping down quite a bit of water as well in the process. After drying his face with a towel, he stood for a moment with his hands on the edge of the sink, bent forward slightly, and closed his eyes, obviously still trying to compose himself fully. He took a deep breath before he stood up straight, reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste and gave his mouth an in-depth cleaning.

She remained silent during the whole process, watching him intently. She had no idea, what had caused this, but she vowed to herself she would find out soon. The one thing she was sure of was food didn't have anything to do with this. So for the time being – no more animal documentaries.

He finished his tooth-brushing and started to rinse with mouthwash as well. If the situation hadn't been so dumpish, she would have found the sight of him rinsing his mouth eagerly hilarious, but unfortunately, she couldn't see the humor in it at all. When he had finally concluded his tasks, he glanced at her with a guarded expression. She got up from the lid and closed the space between them with the clear intention of kissing him. He held her back. "You can't be serious – I just threw up, for heaven's sake."

"And you spent the last twenty minutes removing every possible trace of that. Come on, Patrick, I really want a kiss now," she said.

Sighing he complied, but only gave her a peck on the lips. She didn't accept that however, and pulled him into a real one. To her delight she couldn't find even the slightest hint of recent events in his mouth and deepened the kiss more. When the need to breathe made itself known, she released him.

"Let's go back to bed. We'll be a lot more comfortable there," she said, reaching for his hand to pull him along with her.

He followed her obediently. When they reentered the bedroom, she heard him exhale in relief when he realized that the TV was switched off. He took a hold of his wine and imbibed a large mouthful.

"You should probably eat something first, Patrick. There are still some left-overs. I could warm some up in the microwave."

"Nah, I'll be fine. Just sit down. I'll eat it like this. Cold pasta has never killed anyone," he replied.

Then he walked around the bed to his side, sat down and grabbed his plate dutifully, picking listlessly at the food still left there.

"Tell me, Patrick. Tell me what happened." She slipped into bed beside him. "I'm sure you'll feel better afterwards. Put that plate down. You're not going to eat anything anyway, the way it looks like from here. Lie down, relax and talk to me," she begged him and he actually complied.

She lay down on top of him, resuming one of her newfound favorite positions, her head pillowed on his chest. She put one arm across his chest holding him close. Her other hand started to tousle his hair in a soothing manner.

* * *

**TBC in 2013...  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Happy 2013, everybody!  
**

**Warning: Major Jane angst ahead.**

* * *

She didn't expect him to talk without further prodding, but suddenly he started. "It was scary, Teresa, so scary. Déjà vu. Too close."

He shuddered and she held on tighter, just waiting for him to find the courage to go on.

He inhaled deeply and collected himself. "Sorry, I'm not making much sense, I'm afraid. And honestly, I'm not sure you really want to hear this, or rather are ready to hear this. I don't want to pollute what we have with this."

"I would need a bit more information to be able to assess that, Patrick." She craned her head to look up at him. "But please know that nothing you tell me could ever change my feelings for you. Absolutely nothing," she said with conviction.

He cast a scrutinizing look at her and seeing only determination and love in her eyes, he nodded to indicate that he'd come to a decision. "Alright, Teresa, but remember that I warned you. Because this is about Lorelei, and I know she's a sour spot for you."

"Well, I think it's safe to say that she is a much bigger sour spot for you. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Get this off your chest, Patrick. I don't mean to sound patronizing, but it will do you good," she replied emphatically.

"Yes, well okay, I guess… You'll probably think it to be completely ludicrous, but it was just… in Vegas, in that motel room…." He paused to center himself. "She came to my room after bailing me out of prison. Brought me chicken soup. I ate part of it while we reclined on the bed, just like you and I were earlier. And we watched TV."

He paused again and Teresa had a very good idea what kind of program they'd watched. She had to admit, that it was quite eerie how similar the setting had been and she already understood his reaction, even before he'd finished his tale.

"Okay, you probably know where this is going anyway, but, well… I had finished that soup and we just lay there watching this documentary. It was on African wildlife. Big cats hunting for prey. I can tell you, the irony wasn't lost on me: imagine knowing you're lying there on a bed with Red John's mistress, who hides her face in your chest because she can't stomach to see a zebra foal becoming the prey of a big cat!"

He uttered a short, nearly hysterical laugh. "God, Teresa, all I could think of was 'Tyger! Tyger! burning bright / In the forests of the night / What immortal hand or eye / Could frame thy fearful symmetry?'"

Another distraught laugh escaped him. "And then we kissed and this whole documentary playing in the background became like a twisted soundtrack for the final act."

* * *

By now tears were running down his face. "In retrospect, I can honestly say I've no idea how I managed to perform that night. All I could think of was that I had to get her hooked. That she most certainly did what that bastard wanted her to do and if I defied him, he would never buy my act. He had to believe that I'd truly given up, and I guess the only thing left contradicting this in his eyes was the fact that I hadn't had sex with anyone since he killed my wife."

After finishing this part of his tale, he started to sob. She caressed his face, wiping away the tears with one hand while holding him as tightly as possible with the other.

He calmed himself a bit so he could go on. "A weird connection – that's what she called it when she came to my motel. An apt description if ever I heard one." Another harsh laugh interrupted his explanation. "It was the reason she gave me for bailing me out. And we'd talked barely more than a few minutes at the bar where she worked. I knew she was his disciple the moment she sat down beside me at that bar."

He paused again, daring to look at Teresa for the first time since he'd started his sordid tale. His relief was nearly tangible when he found no traces of repulsion or disgust, only compassion and understanding.

It made him continue. "Earlier, I guess, it all just kind of caught up with me. That program was only the trigger. You're right – this has been eating at me for a while. I mean, I'm a man and I'm sure we have a more down-to-earth concept of sex. It's been deeply planted in our hypothalamus from an early evolutionary state after all."

Thinking of it so scientifically momentarily helped calm him. He breathed out to further collect himself. "But still, for weeks now I've been forcing down the comprehension that I've practically shared a woman's nether regions with the killer of my wife, probably even literally. How does that sound? Must be the strangest stepping stone in the history of all stepping stones. And then those fucking FBI-bastards just stash her away. It's all been for naught!" He released another ugly laugh.

She didn't give him a verbal answer. Whatever could you say to that? Instead, she leant in to kiss him, knowing that this would show him much more clearly than any which words ever could, that she didn't find him repugnant. He returned her affection hesitantly, but she took it as a good sign anyway. He broke the kiss after a minute or two, motioned for her to rest her head on his chest again and started to play with her hair.

* * *

He sighed. "Well, as I'm already in the middle of an emotional striptease anyway, I might as well add, that Lorelei wasn't just the first woman after Angela, she was in fact the only woman other than my wife I had ever been intimate with until last night."

She raised her head again and at the look of astonishment on her face he continued, "Yeah, it's true, Teresa. I've only ever had sex with three women, but you are only the second one I've ever made love to in my life. I met Angie when I was seventeen. She was my first. And I sure as hell never betrayed her."

"Wow, I feel kind of honored now, Patrick – I had no idea. Suffice it to say I would've never guessed. I mean, in that fugue-state of yours, you were quite the womanizer to be honest. I never told you – but you actually dared to grab my butt while I was escorting you from a bar!" she said after a moment with a bit of recalled indignation.

"No, I didn't, did I? Gosh. For what it's worth, I apologize for my impudence. But I honestly can't remember it at all." With a grin he added, "A pity really." This earned him a light slap on the chest.

"Anyway," he continued, "as far as I understand it, I pretty much acted the way I would've been like, if I hadn't met my wife. I guess it was a good thing then, that I did, hm?"

She nodded her head yes vehemently.

"Ouch! That was revealing. Seems like I would've turned into a nasty, greedy, manipulative, selfish womanizer without her. Sounds just like dear old dad…" he said with a disgusted face.

"No, Patrick! That's not the whole truth. I know, you don't want to believe it, but there was a lot more to you than that, even in that state. I could see my dear old Jane shining through all the time. You are a good man and though your wife might have enhanced that or rather refined you, your heart has always been big and soft – of that I'm absolutely sure. You are nothing like your father, Patrick, he has nothing on you," she stated with finality.

He looked slightly astonished. "You never even knew him. How can you be so sure?"

"I know enough, trust me and let's leave it there. You are a good man. That's why I love you. Never doubt either of those things."

She backed up her claim with another kiss, which he returned eagerly this time. They broke it before it could turn too heated, both feeling that it wasn't the right time for that.

* * *

They lay there in silence for a while, before she spoke again. "I'm still astonished about what you said earlier."

"Which part? I'm pretty certain there were quite a few things with the potential to cause astonishment," he said.

"Well, about me being actually only the third woman, you've ever had sex with. You seem like such an experienced lover," she said, a slight blush coloring her face.

He gave a short laugh at that. "Thanks for the compliment. Well, what can I say? I told you before, women are just like accordions – and what it comes down is: all you need to know is how to push the right buttons and play them."

She slapped him a bit harder this time. "You're such a jerk, Jane!" But she couldn't help but smile anyway.

"Oh come on. I admitted to men being toasters as well. Not my best metaphor, I'm afraid, because at least the majority of us actually prefer to plug something in - not getting plugged, if you get my meaning," he smirked.

"I get it loud and clear, mister. And do you know what else I get?"

He shook his head no. "And I probably don't want to know either…" He snickered.

"You, Patrick Jane," she said, poking him in the chest with her forefinger, "are nothing but a sexist pig."

"You are absolutely right, of course. But I'm your pig, Lisbon."

"That you are, Jane, that you are." She chuckled happily and leaned forward again to press a kiss to the corner of his grinning lips.

"But seriously, Teresa. I don't believe that quantity of partners makes good lovers. I would choose quality over quantity any day. Being observant helps – a lot. And being perceptive, of course. And I had known you for a long time before we made love. It felt pretty natural to me. I can read your everyday reactions easily after all." There was some smugness in his expression, but mostly, he looked tenderly at her.

"What it pretty much comes down to is to find out what your partner enjoys. And the willingness to give your partner what she wants or on occasion, to help her find out what she REALLY wants. You know, pushing the envelope a bit. You are rather good at that as well, my dear," he explained warmly, and added, "I really love giving you pleasure, Teresa. It's the most fulfilling thing I've done in a decade. Watching you when you climax is the greatest turn-on I can possibly think of. Your arousal is incredibly intoxicating to me."

His look at her was intense and made her a bit uncomfortable, especially combined with his open words.

"Are you blushing again?" He grinned again, sensing the intensity was too much for her. "No need to be shy. I've already seen you in the throes of passion, my love, and you were stunning. No reason to be embarrassed, Teresa. You've seen me naked as well after all, and I don't just mean without clothes." His face relaxed now into a warm smile. "I love you, all of you. No cause for any misgivings. You are perfect to me."

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews will make the author very happy and in answer to that, she'll make her readers happy, too...  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**A bit of fluff, before things turn angsty again... Enjoy!  
**

* * *

She kissed him fiercely in response. She ended the kiss several minutes later, panting. After a long moment she was finally ready to speak. "God, Patrick, I'm really starting to pity the rest of the female population. I must be the luckiest woman in the world to have you. Being with you is probably the greatest self-confidence booster known to mankind." She pecked his lips once more. "I think my ego just doubled in size. Thank you, I think I needed that. I do have quite a few insecurities, which I'm sure you already know…"

"Yeah, I know. But you shouldn't have. You're such a great person, love," he answered warmly.

"Ditto, Patrick. You should take your own advice. It's the only logical option, in fact. And men are heavy on that logic stuff, right?" she said.

He was rather puzzled. "Logical, Teresa? How so?"

"Well, if it is true what you claim, you know, that I'm so great, wouldn't it stand to reason that I wouldn't waste my love, time, and energy on a real loser? Ergo, you must be pretty great yourself," she explained.

"Your logic, my dear, is flawed. You, Teresa, are just too saintly to wash your hands of me," he retorted.

"Hah, that's flawed logic as well. According to your claim, I am perfect. Ergo, nothing I will ever say or do could possibly be flawed. That would be a contradiction in terms. Gotcha there, Jane," she exclaimed in triumph.

He laughed out loud at that. "Yeah, I guess you got me there. How could I possibly counter that? The only feasible way would be to go back on my words and admit that you might not be perfectly perfect - something, I wouldn't dare to do, of course."

"Well then, we are the perfect couple, it seems..." A moment later she continued, "Patrick?`"

"Yes, love?" he replied.

"I'd really like to… no, I'll try again. Is there… no, that's wrong as well… Damn, I really don't know how to ask this." Her face was a mask of annoyance.

"It can't be that difficult. Just spit it out. I mean, look at what I have already told you tonight. It can't be worse than that, right? Or did I somehow cause this hesitation?" He tried to encourage her. "It's alright, my dear – you should really tell me, so I can make it up to you."

"No, Jane. You didn't do anything wrong. That's not it at all. Sorry for giving you that impression. It's completely ridiculous and it's not even really important, but somehow, it's been on my mind all day. Maybe it's best to just come right out with it." She sighed. "Patrick, I want to call you something other than Jane or Patrick once in a while. You've called me dear and love all day and I like that very much. But I have no idea, what you would be comfortable with. All I know is that teddy bear is obviously out…"

He smirked at the last part of her statement, but then he contemplated the rest of it. "Hmh… before I answer, I should maybe reveal that I haven't dared to call you something more personalized either, probably for the same reasons. In my head, I usually call you something completely different, to tell the truth."

He collected his thoughts for a moment. "But to answer your question: I'm afraid I'm not really all that comfortable with anything deriving from my given name. Rick I can live with, when certain people from my past use it, but I really don't want you to do so because it's what my wife used to call me and it would feel weird coming from you. I hope you understand that and don't take it the wrong way." He paused to take note of her reaction. Her smile and nod seemed to be the answer he was searching for.

"Pat and Patty were my father's choices – so not my favorites either. And when it comes to my father, well, he called me hotshot as well sometimes, so I'm not too keen on that one either, but I can live with it. Other than that I'm pretty much open to your suggestions. Though please keep in mind that I'm neither cute nor cuddly, just so we are clear on that." He said the last with a teasing smile.

"I have to veto that. I find you deliciously cute and cuddly, but I'm inclined to refrain from hurting your manly pride too much… How about imp? You are an imp, you know? I pretty much think of you as an imp anyway most of the time. Have for years in fact. Can you live with that?" she inquired.

He chuckled. "Well, I can definitely think of worse names, though I have no idea how you could ever find it suitable to compare me with an imp. I can't see any connection at all…"

"My alternative would be rascal…" she teased, her grin indicating that this wasn't a serious suggestion. "How I could possibly think of you in those terms is anyone's guess. Only just about every person in your immediate or broader vicinity would agree with my assessment…" she bantered.

"Okay, then. As long as I'm YOUR imp, I can live with that," he said.

"Oh, rest assured. You certainly are MY imp, though I wouldn't be opposed to you concentrating a bit more of your impish behavior on others," she teased him.

He smirked evilly. "Be careful what you wish for, Agent Lisbon, you might just get it. And do you know what that means? Even more complaints equals even more paperwork. If I annoy YOU on the other hand – it doesn't cause any outside complaints at least. So in other words, my being your very own personal imp shows my incredibly huge consideration for your sufferings."

"Yeah, and do you know what more paperwork will mean for you from now on? The guest bedroom. And the same goes for you being too much of an imp in general as well. So you better restrain yourself in the future – you've something to lose now," she mock-threatened him.

"Your loss, Teresa. Why would you want to further punish yourself after a late night of filing useless forms? I wouldn't be able to make it worth your while from next door…"

"Cocky bastard. After annoying me at work, you'll probably flee to the spare bedroom voluntarily because you're afraid of my wrath. You know, the advantage of calling you an imp is that I only have to add one measly letter to turn it into wimp," she teased him.

He snickered gleefully at that. "Ah, thanks. You know how much I love Scrabble. But I would appreciate it if you didn't call me a wimp on a regular basis. I know, I am a bit wimpy, but what can I say: poor manly pride…." His expression turned mockingly woeful. "It should be enough that pretty much everyone already knows that you are the brawn to my brains in our partnership…"

This yielded him another slap on the chest which he commented with a snooty: "Quod erat demonstrandum!"

"Grrr, imp!" she harrumphed, but couldn't stop herself from giving him a kiss anyway.

* * *

After a moment of silence she said, "Ahm, Patrick? You never actually told me what you call me in your head. You only mentioned that you did call me something other than love or dear."

"You didn't ask. And besides, you haven't told me what you would be comfortable with either. So it was out of pure self-preservation that I didn't dare to be more concrete," he replied with a grin.

"Well, I'm asking now. And for your information, don't you ever dare to call me Terry. I'm not particularly happy with Reese, either, but my brothers and their families insist on calling me that – as if I was a man. You, however, aren't allowed to. I'm not quite the honey-bunny type," she rolled her eyes, "and stereotyped things like darling or, heaven forbid, pumpkin are out too. Dear and love I like however. And I'm really curious about what you use for me in your mind. So come clean now, Jane," she demanded.

He looked a bit sheepish. "I'm not sure. You might call me sappy again. My manly pride has already taken so many beatings today – both in word and deed… I don't know, if my manliness can survive another blow…"

"I promise, I won't hit too hard then…wimp," she teased him.

He averted his eyes, obviously abashed, but decided to tell her anyway. "Okay, but I have to admit that it IS a bit sappy…. I've actually referred to you as Emy in my head – as in emerald - ever since I gave you that necklace from the casino shop back in Calida. Because I've always loved your eyes, but mainly because you are a gem, my gem, my beautiful, caring, strong, hard-assed little jewel," he explained with complete seriousness.

She had to covertly wipe away a tear. His words had truly touched her. "Patrick, you're so incredibly sweet sometimes and sappy and, well, cute! That is so sweet, really. I don't know what to say."

"Meh, well thanks. Now you've truly killed it," he said, embarrassment visible on his face.

"What? I don't know, what you're talking about," she asked in puzzlement.

He was squirming now, obviously very uncomfortable with the emotional situation. "My manliness, of course. You killed it. You promised, you wouldn't hit too hard. Sappy, sweet, and cute?!" She could tell he was trying to lighten the mood again. "Honestly, woman. Why don't you just shoot me? I'm pretty much useless to you anyway, now that you've turned me into a eunuch."

She smiled fondly at him. "I know you hate emotional women. I think we've truly established that fact. But it's your own fault really, imp. I can't help it that you're such a softy. I love you though, even without balls."

"Now, now. No need to rub it in." He raised his hands briefly in defense. "You know, I can't tell you things like that in the future if you just go on destroying my masculinity like that. Maybe there's a tiny bit left yet. You'll have to find out about that, preferably some time soon. But it can't be much. So be careful," he replied with a pout on his face, that - to Teresa's delight - made him look even cuter in her opinion.

She leant in to kiss him, her hands finding their way into his curls, ruffling them. "God, I love you so much, Patrick," she sighed when they broke the kiss.

"I love you too, Emy," he replied warmly, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

* * *

**TBC**

**I would really appreciate it, if you took the time to write a little review. There's been a distinct decline lately, and I have no idea why... I'm putting quite a bit of heart and soul into this particular story arc, and though the writing is a pleasure in itself, I would lie, if I didn't admit that your support motivates me as well...I hope, this didn't sound too much like begging... ;-)  
**

**BTW: A big thanks to everyone, who's put me on alert and who's reviewed so far.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning: Things are getting more and more angsty now. **

**And I swear, I wrote this part long before the latest episode "Days Of Wine And Roses" was aired. It was still a bit eerie to hear Jane talk about his father like that - even though he was of course playing that psychiatrist at the time. The bank robberies were a bit over the top, but I had no problem believing him about the pickpocket-thing; and we have actually seen him to be rather slick-fingered on many occasions... The most convincing lies are always those containing a grain of truth after all...**

**But on with the story now...  
**

* * *

"Jane? What did you actually do with it?" Lisbon asked out of the blue a while later.

She sat up and he did the same, so they were both leaning against the headboard, their heads turned, so they faced each other.

He looked puzzled at her. "You do know that I can't really read minds, don't you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The necklace, Jane. What did you do with it after I gave it back to you?" she inquired.

"Ah, yes. The necklace… Well, I might have thrown it into a donation box or something…" he answered airily.

She rolled her eyes. "No, honestly. What did you do with it? Did they take it back in the casino gift store?"

He grinned sheepishly. "I did say I would've bought world peace, didn't I?"

"And that's not for sale, unfortunately. I know that, Patrick."

"Well, so a donation box seemed like the closest thing to buying world peace in Nevada," he explained, sporting a slightly embarrassed expression.

Lisbon looked at him in astonishment. "You've got to be kidding. You didn't actually put the jewelry into a real donation box in Calida to 'sort of' buy world peace for me?"

He nodded bashfully.

She laughed out loud. "No, you didn't. Did you?"

He nodded again, still looking extremely uncomfortable. "Yes, and most of the rest of the money, too. Apart from what I needed to get into the perp's special poker round."

"You are kidding me, Jane. I don't believe you. You are playing mind games with me," she stated, though some doubt clouded her voice.

He shrugged. "Believe what you want, Lisbon. It is the truth, but if you want to believe otherwise, it's your prerogative of course."

She was completely baffled now. "You really did that? But why? First you go all out and buy all those expensive, over the top gifts for the team and invite us for dinner, and then you just go and drop it off to the Salvation Army or something? I don't get it, Jane. But I would like to understand your reasoning."

* * *

"It's hard to explain. Money is a sour spot for me. During my childhood, I didn't have any, but it played a huge role anyway. I learnt to sell my soul back then, that nothing really matters if you get paid in the end." His face showed clearly what he thought about that now.

"When I left the carnival with Angie, we didn't have any money at all. And since I had never been to any school, I didn't have much going for me. All I knew was how to read people and con them. My wife on the other hand had been to high school. Her grandparents had sent her to boarding school, because she didn't like the carnie-world much after her parents died in a freak accident on one of the Ruskins' family rides when she was ten."

He sent an inquiring look in Teresa's direction. "Are you really comfortable hearing about all this?"

She nodded in affirmation and he continued his tale. "I met her after she'd finished school, when her grandfather insisted she should at least stay with the carnival for a while and try to reevaluate her prejudices about this lifestyle. She hated every second of it. But at first she stayed, mainly because of Danny, who had his own act going and was doing rather well for himself, even though he was just a kid. He loved the carnival and he loved his sister and had missed her very much while she was away at school."

He had reached out for Teresa's hand while speaking and intertwined their fingers now. "Well, to cut a long story short, when we finally left, we didn't have any money at first. It was a tough time. And we both did odd jobs to get by. At some point, I did a few readings for fun in the pub where I was working as a waiter and the patrons seemed to enjoy it. Gave me generous tips. When the owner realized that, he offered me a job as a kind of entertainer there. Paid much better than waiting." He grinned.

"Word got around and other pub owners asked me to do shows as well. It got to the point where we were able to get by without Angie working and she could do what she'd always wished to do – go to college. She studied to become a high school teacher – math, literature and music. She was great at the piano."

He paused a moment, his thoughts seemed to be miles away. He seemed to recollect some fond memories because he was smiling. She felt a slight sting of jealousy and was ashamed of it. It was a good development after all, that he had started to recall positive things about his marriage – not just a red smiley-face on a wall.

"Anyway," he continued. "We had a hard time at first, but we got her through her studies. I was so proud of her when she finally held her diploma in her hands. It was a bit awkward at her graduation ceremony, though. All those academics and yours truly in the middle of it with not a whiff of education…"

He looked a bit ruefully. "I was a tad jealous, maybe even resentful, to be honest. I'm not sure I was such a great husband that day…" He halted and wore a sheepish expression.

"Ah, I see…how many professors did you manage to aggravate that night?" she asked with a knowing look.

He had to grin a bit. She really knew him well. "A few…" he said. "But in my defense, they were irksome, the whole lot of them. There was this big dinner going on and the only thing they were talking about was how smart they all were. And all they wanted to know about me was my level of education. You should have seen their expressions when I told the truth. They sneered at me, Teresa."

She could see the remembered pain in his eyes.

"I should have probably just told them a lie. Would have been easier that way. Would have spared me from hearing, that they couldn't understand why such a smart woman would put up with a dumb-ass like me…" Disdain clouded his voice.

"Well, anyway. Let's just say I did a few cold-readings that night… I might have accused the Dean of sleeping with his assistant behind his wife's back – nothing but the truth of course, but it didn't go over too well…"

"I can't imagine why," she said sarcastically. "But seriously, Patrick. Is that still a sour spot? I mean the fact, that you don't have any formal education?" she asked.

"Maybe a little, sometimes. I'm not sure. I always wanted to be normal as a child. You know, go to school and such. I always imagined the other kids were so much smarter than me, because I couldn't go. I thought, I was too stupid anyway. It's pretty much what my dad told me all the time. So yes, I guess it is a bit of a sour spot."

He contemplated his next words for a moment. "Not so much anymore. I know I'm far from stupid after all. And I studied along with Angie quite a bit. Read her books and went over her papers. That helped as well. I mean, if you're able to understand college books, you can't be all dumb, can you? She was studying to become a teacher after all. And if you're able to comprehend the material in the books that school teachers learn from, it pretty much stands to reason, you'd be able to get through high school as well…"

He looked up searching and finding confirmation in her eyes.

"Angela always insisted, that I was much smarter than her and that I would've been bored out of my mind in school. So, objectively speaking, I didn't have any reason to feel so inferior to that bunch of academics, but I did…" he admitted. He paused a moment and then said, "I feel quite foolish, when I think about it now. It was very childish and I ruined that evening for Angela. And it was such an important occasion for her. I feel really guilty, even though it's been fifteen years since and Angela forgave me for it." He lowered his eyes. "I always seem to ruin the things most sacred to my loved ones. I don't know why," he concluded sadly.

"I think I understand, Patrick. It had nothing to do with the factual situation, but with the underlying feelings of inferiority you still had, or have for that matter, from your childhood. You felt threatened in your worth – and you always act out when that happens." She gave him a wry smile. "I've been a witness to that quite often. It's still your way of dealing with these kinds of situations," she said with compassion.

* * *

"Do you understand, Patrick? That you have been hurt badly by your upbringing? And I'm not even talking about those scars on your back." He shifted, suddenly a little uncomfortable that she brought that up. "Your father destroyed your sense of self-worth systematically, and that's actually much worse than what he did to you physically. I'm not a therapist, but I can still tell that you have a lot of issues in that regard. You are a very strong man, Patrick, but there are some things that leave marks that are too deep to get over" – she snapped her fingers – "just like that."

She paused a moment, trying to find the right words to reach him. "Take just last night. You told me all that counted about you was your mind. And you have a great mind – no doubt about that. You are probably the smartest person I'm ever going to meet. But to me, the most shining thing about you is your heart, Patrick. Because you've endured so much and it's been cut into pieces, trampled on and misguided, but it still shines." She squeezed his hand firmly. "That's what makes you a really strong, a really good man, Patrick Jane." She released him so she could hold his face between her hands and look him straight in the eyes. "The only problem is that YOU aren't able to believe this. And that's the biggest crime your father ever committed. A truly unforgivable one," Teresa explained.

"I don't know what to say, Teresa." He blinked, almost overwhelmed by the conviction and love that shone from her deep green eyes. "Thank you. For the vote of confidence. I just hope for your sake that this isn't going to come back and haunt you. I always spoil the things most important to me – be warned," he said, self-abhorrence clearly visible on his face. His gaze fell. "So in a way, I guess my father was actually right about me. He always said I would never manage to accomplish anything without him. That I didn't have what it takes. Didn't measure up. And I wanted so much to prove him wrong, Lisbon," Patrick said quietly.

But his voice turned very agitated when he continued. "Even when I earned enough to care for Angela and Charlotte – I always wanted more, to prove myself. I wanted to show him that he was wrong about me. So I had to play more and more risky. Big shows, famous clients, TV appearances, limelight everywhere."

He took a deep breath, before he continued. "My wife begged me to stop. She said I was losing myself, that I was turning into a creep," he said, his voice laden with self-disgust. "But I didn't stop. Couldn't get enough. Adulation, importance and money. Most of all money. God, how I hate money! I just wanted him to see that I was worthy. But what it comes down to is – I'm not."

* * *

**TBC**

**As usual: Your opinion matters to me and any kind of review motivates me. Please take a moment to drop me a line. Thanks to all of you, who've already done so in the past. I really appreciate it.  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Warning: Major angst alert for this one.**

* * *

Silent tears escaped his eyes that were shut in shame. She wiped them gently away with her thumbs before she whispered tenderly, "Yes you are, Patrick." She continued to stroke his cheek with her thumb, while she added, "See, that's exactly what I was talking about, love. You aren't able to believe in your own worth and it's hurting you. Badly."

He had opened his eyes again and she was glad she could reach him with her own eyes, which she hoped held all the love she felt for him.

When she went on speaking, her voice was full of fervor. "Do you really think the monster that had the audacity to call himself a father to you is the kind of authority worthy of judging YOU, Patrick? A money-grabbing child abuser, a gambler, a lowlife bastard like that? You allow this creep to judge you? Why, Patrick?" she inquired imploringly.

He just looked at her sadly, so she decided to continue. "Even on your worst days you are a better man than he could ever dream to be. He doesn't deserve the power you still give him, Patrick. He once had power over you and he abused it horribly. Even then, you prevailed, Patrick. You might not think so, but you did. You had the strength to stay true to your heart. You managed to retain the ability to love, Patrick."

She paused to let her words sink in, before she went on. "That's basically a miracle considering that you hardly received any love as a child. Have you any idea how much I admire that? I'm awed, actually!" Her lips found his for a short but fervent kiss.

"I know you've done some pretty ugly things in your life, but that doesn't negate the fact that you are and have always been worthy of love, Patrick. Just because that monster wasn't capable of loving anyone but himself, doesn't mean that something is wrong with you."

She emphasized her words with another kiss, but she wasn't finished yet. His expression revealed that there was still too much doubt left in him.

"All it shows is that something is fundamentally wrong with Alex Jane, not Patrick, an innocent little baby boy. He got such a beautiful gift – how could he not love you? I'm sure you were an adorable child, Patrick. So incredibly smart and caring. And he just turned it all into a horrid nightmare for you. And it's not your fault, love. It never was and never will be!"

He was staring at her, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks again and cast a look at her that nearly tore her heart in two because it contained so much pain. But she could sense a smidge of hope in his voice when he whispered, "Do you really believe that, Teresa? I mean, seriously?"

She nodded. But she still saw the hope diminish in eyes again when he added with a broken voice. "I never told you, but I killed my mum, Teresa. I killed her. That's why I'll never be worthy."

* * *

He got very frantic when he continued, tears streaming down his face. "I killed my mum and I killed Angela and Charlotte. I killed them! I didn't mean to, Teresa. Really, you've got to believe me. I never meant to. It just happened. Oh god, I loved them so much, Teresa. I never meant to harm them. Honestly." He looked up at her with eyes so sad it nearly broke her heart again.

"And now I love you, and I'm so damn scared I'll hurt you too, Teresa. Please, you've got to believe me. I'll try not to, really, but I don't know if I can. I didn't mean to before either, but it still happened. You've got to believe me, Teresa."

He was gasping for breath, his voice full of pleading. "I'm not bad on purpose, it's just inside me, I guess. I'm just evil or something. I don't know. It's just always been like that, right from the start. The first thing I ever did was kill my mum, Teresa. I don't think I meant to. Do you think I meant to? I guess, it doesn't matter – I still did it after all. Teresa, I'm so sorry. Please believe me, I really don't think I meant to."

She was crying as well by now because she hurt so much for him. "Oh Patrick… I believe you. Of course you didn't mean to kill them. In fact, you DIDN'T kill them, love. YOU didn't! Your mother died during childbirth because that bastard of a father of yours couldn't be bothered to get her help on time."

She looked sadly at him. "If anyone, then HE killed her, Patrick. Alex Jane is at least responsible for a big part of it. There is nothing to fault you for there. Nothing!"

She paused a moment to get his full attention before she asked, "If your wife had died while having Charlotte, would you have hated your baby?"

He shook his head no vehemently at once.

"And that, Patrick, tells you all you'll ever need to know about your own father. And about yourself as well. You would've doted on your daughter, because she was the last remaining part of the woman you loved. There isn't even a hint of a smudge of doubt in my mind about that," she said with absolute conviction. "But your father did the opposite. And in addition, he actually blamed you for his own negligence. That is true evil, Patrick – telling your own son he killed his mother when nothing could be further from the truth."

She took a deep breath to calm herself down. The thought of Alex Jane made her really angry. Consequently, her next words about him were disdainful again. "And I doubt he even loved your mum in the first place. Her death and your existence were nothing but inconveniences to him, because he is a spineless, ruthless, greedy, selfish, heartless, evil little creep who doesn't possess the slightest sense of empathy or even decency!"

Her eyes searched his and she continued warmly. "Patrick, he was NEVER WORTHY of a beautiful son like you. And that, my love, is the real truth of the matter. And nothing, absolutely nothing you say, will ever convince me otherwise. You are a good man, Patrick Jane. I love you, and you are worthy of it."

* * *

He broke down completely at that. Heart-wrenching sobs shook his body and his hands covered his face, tears pouring out from behind them. Raw sounds of pain tore from somewhere deep inside of him.

She engulfed him in her arms, one hand pressing his face against her chest, just holding him close so he would know he wasn't alone. Her hand started to stroke his hair tenderly, while she talked quietly, soothing him. "It's alright, Patrick. Just let it all out. I have you, my love. I'll always have you."

* * *

She repeated the words like a mantra. She didn't expect him to really hear her, but it felt like the right thing to do. Her only hope was, that this would turn out to be a cathartic break-down. That it was the right thing at the right time. She wasn't a counselor, after all, but it felt right.

He had never allowed himself to let out all those repressed emotions – that she was sure of. He had just lived with his guilt, blaming himself and trying to keep it together. He kept his distance, didn't reveal anything personal if it wasn't absolutely necessary, and tried to stay as detached as possible from everyone around him. And when someone or something threatened the fragile and vulnerable little boy carefully guarded by a mask of arrogance and superiority, he tended to cut his opponent to pieces with his intellect. Or he manipulated people – mostly through reverse psychology or other mental tricks. He was a true master of deflection.

She hoped with all her might, that she had reached him at some level with the things she'd said. It was all very plain to her. And in any other person but himself, he would have been the first one to point out every single one of those things. But she understood that such an enormous childhood conditioning wasn't easy to overcome. What he had revealed about his reasons for playing the psychic on TV was clear evidence of that fact.

It was a vicious circle he'd ended up in: He'd tried to prove his worth to his father by being a ruthless conman earning lots of money, which resulted in what he deemed his ultimate sin, killing his family, which, in his eyes, had done nothing but reinforce the teachings of his father about not being worthy in the first place. He hadn't been able to get out of that circle, which had turned more and more into a downward spiral over the years and during his obsessive hunt. And she hadn't seen it until the day before. Hadn't been able to see the true tragedy playing out before her very eyes day in and day out. Only now did she start to understand his real intentions staying with the CBI and her team. He needed them because he wanted to make amends for being an evil killer.

With every closed case, every life he might be able to save, every little act of kindness he committed, he tried to make up for his sins – real and imaginary ones. And that he actually had the ability to solve the cases, gave him the necessary confirmation that his mind was indeed superior. Which again gave him at least one thing he could take pride in. It seemed to be the only part of him he didn't find completely disgusting, which she was glad about. Especially because his father had also tried to break his faith in his mental abilities, calling him - of all things – stupid.

That he took pride in his mental powers gave her hope, because if he didn't believe Alex in that regard, she might be able to convince him that all the rest were lies, too. That was her great hope. This crying fit gave her hope.

It was only a small start, but it was something at least. She was sure, he'd never really mourned, or rather allowed himself to mourn, because he felt too guilty and undeserving of emotions like that. That's why he'd been stuck in neutral for so long, unable to move on. But he was ready now, she believed. Maybe hitting rock bottom with this whole Lorelei-fiasco had been a blessing after all. And taking a trip – literally – into his own subconscious had turned out to be an eye-opener as well.

It was a balance on a knife's edge though. She had been very afraid he would turn even more obsessive after his little talk with 'Charlotte.' His subconscious had told him, how utterly tired he was of this whole Red John situation, and she feared that his overwhelming sense of guilt would come to the fore and tell him to punish himself for this imaginary treachery.

She had actually seen some signs pointing in that direction. He had done quite a lot of research lately, trying to find out where the FBI might have taken Lorelei. He'd already created a list of all the drivers that had left the prison compound during the potential period of her relocation and he was setting up interviews with them.

To her great relief he'd shared his thoughts on the matter with her so far – at least she hoped he hadn't held back too much information this time. Still, she had to keep a close eye on things for a while. And she was damn glad she'd allowed him to move in with her two weeks ago. She was sure this had made all the difference. This was the first stable home he'd had in almost ten years, and the first time he'd shared a part of himself with anyone as well. And it had led to him not spending ALL of his time in that damn attic.

* * *

**TBC**

**Poor Jane! But reviews might make him happy again...  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm a bit worried, no, make that very worried, because the last chapter only got one review. It's the chapter I'm most insecure about, because it's so intensely emotional. I don't think Jane was too OOC, because everybody has a breaking point and he's been through so much without any release for so long. So his feelings have been accumulating for almost ten years, and with recent events added to it, I don't think it's too far-fetched to assume, he might have reached his limit. Now he has the person who he trusts above all by his side, and for the first time since his wife died, he has someone to open up to. No wonder his walls crumbled for once... But that's just my opinion, and I would be happy to hear yours. Did you all think it was over the top, stupid, bad?**

**Anyway, on to the next chapter - a lot less angsty, I promise...**

* * *

He was still sobbing violently, even after at least twenty minutes had gone by. She rocked him gently, and continued her soothing mantra. His hands were clenching the front of her shirt frantically like a lifeline. It didn't faze her, and neither did the fact that his tears had drenched her top. She just felt an overwhelming need to protect and comfort him.

It astonished her, how much love she seemed to have for him. She had known for years that she had deep feelings for him. Why else would she have put up with all of his shams and subterfuges for so long? And why else had she gone through such hell while he had been in Vegas? She hadn't acknowledged her feelings until last night, but she'd known they were there. She had, however, no idea just how all-consuming they were. It was almost like her heart hurt from all the deep love, affection, and compassion she felt right now. She'd never felt anything like this before, and it was actually a bit scary.

His sobs had grown a bit lower now. His hands unclenched somewhat as well. She relaxed her hold on him slightly. One of her hands found its way to the bedstand where she took hold of a pack of paper tissues, which she handed to him. He sat up and wiped his face, his head bent forward. He took a few deep breaths and seemed to collect himself. A few moments later, he cast a tentative look at her.

"Sorry…" he squeezed out huskily.

"Shshsh, no, Patrick. Don't apologize," she said warmly, her hand coming up to caress his cheek gently. "There's absolutely nothing to apologize for, love. I'm glad you allowed yourself this release. You're really a strong man, Patrick."

"I just fell apart in front of you, and you call me strong, Lisbon? Come on, we both know I'm a wimp." The little laugh he produced sounded condescending.

"Patrick, just don't, please. Don't sell yourself short. Crying isn't a sign of weakness. You do know that, right? I'm glad, this happened, my love. It is been a long time coming, and it's very good you finally let go." Her eyes carried only warmth, when they found his. "I might have jested about it on occasion, but honestly, Patrick, I've never thought of you as a wimp. I know you hate violence in any form and hide from it. That might not be the manly-man action, but I don't want or need some macho cop boyfriend. I'm perfectly capable of defending myself after all." She cast him a determined look, which softened again when she continued. "To me, the very fact that you have managed to get up every morning of your life, shows more courage than any displays of so-called male strength ever could. I truly admire you, Patrick."

He stared at her in total disbelief.

"Honestly, Patrick, I do."

"I'm not sure, I understand, Teresa," he replied.

He'd calmed down completely by now. Though his eyes were still red and puffy from crying, he looked otherwise composed. She was very relieved because she wouldn't have known how to deal with a total melt down. Well, he was probably a too controlled person to allow it to happen, though she knew he must have suffered something like that a few months after the murder of his family, otherwise he wouldn't have ended up in a closed ward.

She pulled him into her for a short kiss, before she answered. "I hope you will understand soon, imp. I'm awed by that joie de vivre you still seem to have in abundance. It's incredibly humbling to see how you can take joy in all those small things so many people either do not see or take for granted. Mundane things, like a good wine or food, but also momentous things, like a beautiful sight, a laughing child, or a piece of art. That's real strength, Patrick, not playing the tough guy. That wouldn't suit you at all. And I love you for who you are. I wouldn't want you any other way."

His face lightened a bit at her words. "So, what you said before, you know, about my father? Did you really mean that, too?" he inquired carefully.

"Every single word of it," she answered with conviction.

He nodded. And then he sat before her in deep contemplation for several minutes. "What you said, Teresa…it makes a lot of sense, actually. If I try to look at it from an outside perspective, there's a certain logic to it. It's just really hard to apply it to myself. It's so completely opposed to what I have believed to be the truth my whole life." He took a deep, determined breath. "But I'll take what you said into serious consideration. That much I can promise you."

"That's great, Patrick. I'm very glad to hear that. I can imagine that it will take time and effort before all of this has a chance to overcome the distance between your head and your heart. I'm happy that at least your head is starting to acknowledge it. It's a very big first step in my book. I'm incredibly proud of you," she replied with a warm smile.

"Proud, Teresa? You're proud of me? Gee, things are obviously spiraling downwards. A few minutes ago, you were still awed and humbled…" he teased, clearly trying to end the difficult subject.

She rolled her eyes and had to chuckle. "It's okay, imp. I get the message – change of topic. But make no mistake, from now on, I'll remind you of the truth whenever I think you need to hear it." Her eyes conveyed her seriousness. "For now, how about another glass of this sinfully delicious wine? I think we deserve to indulge ourselves a bit. Your stomach up to it?"

"I should probably eat something first, but then I'm all for it. I'll just go and freshen up in the bathroom. Would you do me a favor and get me one of the left over pancakes from earlier? I don't particularly feel like eating pasta right now. I want some comfort food," Patrick answered.

Teresa nodded and they both got up from the bed. "I'll even make you some tea to go with it. A hug in a cup, right?"

He pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek on top of her head. "Yes, that's absolutely right, my love. This is even better, but I'll still have that tea."

He pecked her lips before he released her fully. "Thank you, Emy," he whispered in her ear. "For being there for me and loving me. I'm still not sure I deserve you but I won't let that deter me from being with you. I love you too much."

* * *

They reconvened in the bedroom about 15 minutes later. Patrick had managed to eliminate all traces of his crying fit and was sporting a slightly pensive expression but also a small smile. All in all, his demeanor reassured Teresa that he was okay. She'd arrived before him and had already sat down the food and the tea on her nightstand. Right now, she was standing in front of her closet where she had found a fresh shirt and changed a moment ago. The one she had worn before had become rather uncomfortable, wet as it was with his tears. She greeted her lover with a warm smile when he entered.

"I found some vanilla ice cream in the freezer, Patrick. I think it'll taste heavenly combined with the pancakes and your stuffing. I hope you like it because I already put some onto your plate," she said.

"It's a fact universally known that I would never say no to ice cream, Teresa. And it sounds like a perfect match. I hope you brought enough in case I'm not willing to share," he announced with a grin.

She looked at him fondly "Spoiled brat! Fortunately I anticipated this… Somehow I doubt, even you'll be able to eat four pancakes all on your own…"

"You shouldn't challenge me like that, my dear. I might try it, just to prove you wrong," he teased her.

"Well, don't expect me to hold your hand, when you throw up again…" she bantered right back.

"Okay, maybe I should pass up this particular dare… Darn, I really hate to back down," he mumbled.

She laughed out loud at that, went over and ruffled his hair. "You are so cute sometimes, imp."

"Oh please, not the ugly c-word again. I'm not cute, Lisbon. I'm greedy and a dogmatist who didn't want to share his pancakes with you. If you find that cute, you're officially screwed up, Agent," he replied with indignation. "And now I want my pancakes and my tea, and you'll just have to wait and see whether you'll get any or not!"

Teresa chuckled, took one of his hands, intertwined their fingers, and pulled him over to the bed and stole a kiss. He was standing with his back to the bed and she took advantage of that. With one strong shove to his chest, he was pushed down onto it. She snickered at the expression of confused shock on his face.

"Gotcha!" she exclaimed, before she crawled on top of him and started an intense kiss.

He moaned into her mouth and she could feel him getting aroused. Just when he was about to pull her closer, she broke the kiss and got up. "Pancakes, Patrick. The ice cream is melting as we speak. Can't have that, can we? And your tea is getting cold as well."

He groaned loudly. "That's mean, Emy. You're such a tease. I've told you before, I would always choose you over food. I'm even willing to surrender the pancakes and the ice cream."

"Wow, must be true love then," she replied, feigning awe.

He propped himself up and cast her a warm look, though his words contradicted his expression. "Nah, just hormones, Lisbon. Did you know, that the male body…"

"I know enough about the male body, Patrick," she said, glancing at his groin and arching an eyebrow suggestively. A smile quirked one corner of her lips. "This particular one however will only receive food right now."

He chuckled happily, before he reached out for the tea cup and took a big mouthful. "Lucky me, I got my hug in a cup at least," he said after swallowing. "Come, love, sit down on my lap, so we can eat our treat together," he added, motioning her over to sit between his outstretched legs.

She cast him a slightly dubious look before she decided to follow his suggestion. "But no funny stuff, mister," she warned him, before she leant back against his chest.

He gave her a light kiss on her hair and whispered alluringly in her ear, "No funny stuff, Lisbon. I told you I would never seduce you over a meal, remember?"

And it could have been a coincidence that his hand touched her breast exactly at her most sensitive spot, when he handed her the plate with their dessert, but she seriously doubted it. That cunning bastard, she thought, but she still couldn't keep herself from smiling.

* * *

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

**This is the next to last chapter of this fic, but the next part of this story arc is already in the making and coming along nicely.**

**Reviews are still much appreciated and needed both as motivation and inspiration, so please take the time to drop me a line. Thanks!**

* * *

They shared the pancakes and an easy conversation. Afterwards, Patrick poured them a fresh glass of wine. She still sat between his legs and he held her close to his chest with one arm around her waist fondling her flank lightly. Her hand found its way on top of the one caressing her and she started to draw circles on the back of it with her forefinger. They savored the fine wine and each others' company in contented silence. He nuzzled her neck with his lips between his gulps, which made her sigh in pleasure each time.

A long while later, he broke the silence. "Teresa, may I ask you something?" She nodded.

"Earlier, you seemed to know an awful lot about my father. A lot more in fact, than I've ever told you or Joe revealed last night. And you didn't seem surprised when I told you about my mother either. I might have been a tad preoccupied at the time, but I still clearly perceived that. Care to explain?"

She sighed again, but not in pleasure this time. "Sometimes it's really annoying, that you are so observant, Patrick. I'd much rather not have gone into detail about that anytime soon."

She paused with another sigh, and he spoke up, "Ben?"

She nodded.

"Thought so. It's alright, Teresa. We don't need to talk about it. I'd rather not, truth be told. I just wanted to confirm the source. Now I know at the very least, that you've probably been given reliable facts. I don't know how or why, but he somehow seems to be the foremost expert on my past. I just thought I could trust him to hold his tongue. He knows very well how much I cherish my privacy. I'll have to give him a piece of my mind, next time I see him," Patrick said, slightly peeved.

"No, don't, Patrick. He only did it because he is honestly worried about you. He was acting as a good friend with your best interests at heart," she explained.

"Still, he had no right to divulge information about me like that," he huffed.

"Well, I'm damn glad he did. I wouldn't have had the slightest idea how to handle you earlier without those facts. You've practically never revealed anything about your childhood to me. Without that knowledge, I couldn't have offered any comfort or support. And your break down would have really scared me," she insisted. "You should rather send him a thank-you note or something."

"Whatever," he replied callously.

She rolled her eyes. He couldn't see that in their position, but still called her out on it. "You projected your famous eye-rolling-thingy directly to the back of your head, Lisbon. Just so you know."

"Insufferable imp." She chuckled. "By the way, you've actually still not really explained the whole reasoning behind that jewelry into the donation box action. I understand money is a difficult topic, but why did you buy those expensive gifts at all if you hate money so much?"

He groaned. "Sometimes you're like a dog with a bone."

This yielded him a slap on his thigh.

"Okay, terrier. I'll try again, before you manage to bruise my whole body. You have an awfully loose hand today." He cleared his throat and she got the impression that he was suddenly bashful. "It's because you are important to me, alright? You could have figured that one out yourself."

She couldn't help but slap him again. "That's not what I asked and you know it. Don't play obtuse. Spill it now, Jane."

He sighed. "Is that really necessary?"

"Jane!"

Another sigh escaped him, before he started to explain, "Just because I don't like it doesn't negate the fact that money means something to others. Did you see Cho and Rigsby, when they heard how much I'd won?" She nodded and he continued, "What can I say? I guess what you really want to hear is that mostly I have a bit of a hard time conveying my feelings to others. So, what it boils down to is something like, much money equals much affection." He paused a moment.

"Yes, just roll your eyes again. I know, it's pretty dumb. I understood that, the moment you gave the necklace back to me. What can I say. I'm somewhat socially challenged, I guess. You do know, now, what kind of role-model I had. Anyway, I didn't want or need the money for myself. All it's ever really caused me is pain. So I decided to spent it on the people closest to me. That's not a crime. It was frivolous, I agree, but it WAS still heart-felt, Teresa."

She turned around and straddled him, so she had access to his mouth, because she felt a sudden urge to kiss him. After breaking away, she said, "I'm sorry I had to reject it. I hope you didn't take it as a personal rejection as well, Patrick."

"No, I understood you. It did hurt a bit at first, but after I had taken the time to look at it from your perspective, I could see the error of my ways. Spent a sleepless night pondering it, actually. Why waste a bunch of money on something mundane when you can actually do something meaningful with it? Hence, the donation box."

He drifted off into deep thought for a moment. "I can remember you calling me in fact, just as I was closing the box. And hearing you asking where I was with that little hint of worry in your voice… that meant much more than any money ever would. That's the exact moment you became Emy to me."

She kissed him again. Afterwards, she caressed his cheek and he leaned into her hand. "You know, it's not my fault, I have to call you sweet all the time, imp. You ARE sweet. Completely whacky, but sweet. Now you can just as well come clean about the rest also."

* * *

"What do you mean? I told you, I put it all into that box. Well, the boys wanted to keep their watches of course. But other than that, I only kept enough to get me into that poker round," he said truthfully.

"Well, that's exactly what I was talking about. You won even more in that poker game, if I remember correctly. Did you put that into the donation box as well? I can still recall the indignation in Rigs' voice, when he told me, you'd already spent it all." She grinned at the memory of his face. The two male agents on her team had obviously hoped for additional gifts.

He looked bashful. "I'd rather not say."

"Ah, come on. I really want to know how close to world peace you got with it that time."

"No world peace, I'm afraid. Just a liver," he replied after a moment of contemplation.

"A liver?" she asked in puzzlement. And slightly disgusted she inquired. "Please don't tell me, there's a restaurant that serves a liver worth $300,000. That's sick, even if you might get to know the name of the animal it's coming from. It's much worse than expensive jewelry, in fact. Honestly, Jane, what a waste!"

He wrinkled his nose. "Nah, Lisbon. I don't eat entrails. One of the few foodstuffs I really don't like."

"You are being willfully annoying, Patrick. Can't you just come right out and say it? I don't have the patience for your stupid mind games. What the hell do you mean with it? A liver, really. What am I supposed to make out of that?" she asked, visibly disgruntled.

He was rather put out as well by now. "What the heck do you want from me, Lisbon? You asked what I bought with it and I told you. If that isn't to your satisfaction, maybe you simply asked the wrong question. I didn't want to tell you in the first place, so there's no reason for you to get on my case like that." He flashed her an angry look. "And drawing such ridiculous conclusions, Lisbon. I didn't use a single cent of that money on myself, let alone on some frivolous one-man dinner party. Actually, I barely ever spent any money on myself these days. I thought I made that clear. I HATE money!"

"Then why won't you just explain it to me? Why are you being deliberately obtuse?" she asked in a huff.

"Because I don't like talking about it, okay? It makes me uncomfortable. You'll just go on and say something maudlin again and call me sappy or worse afterwards. I don't deserve any praise for this. I've conned hundreds of thousands out of gullible people without mercy over the years. The least I can do is give something back once in a while, okay? It doesn't make me a saint or something. I'm just making small amends, Lisbon, nothing more," he said in agitation.

She'd calmed down during his outburst. Her own anger had disappeared hearing his explanation. She picked her next words carefully. "You know, even if you don't want to hear it, it's the very fact that you want to make amends that shows that you are a good man, Patrick." She looked at him imploringly. "I promise you, I won't make any sentimental comments, but I would really like to know what exactly you did with your poker winnings. And I'm sorry I insulted you with my assumptions before. What I implied was completely uncalled for. I know, you would never spent $300,000 on a meal."

He sneered. "Well, ten years ago, I might have."

"The past is in the past. The Patrick Jane I know wouldn't do something like that. And since it is the only one I know, I can only judge your actions from my point of view. And frankly, most of the time at least I like what I see. I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. But from where I stand, it's nothing but the truth. Now please: de-liver, if you will, mister Jane."

He rolled his eyes at the awful pun and sighed resigned. "If you insist… It's no big deal anyway. You remember Alexandra? The cheating dealer-lady at table 43 in that casino?"

Lisbon nodded.

"Do you recall the reason why she cheated?"

A look of comprehension appeared on Teresa's face. "Yes, of course. Her mother. She needed the money to pay for her mother's liver transplant," she exclaimed.

"Well, there you have it," he said shyly.

"Oh Patrick!" she blurted out. "That's so…"

He shook his head vehemently with a very uncomfortable expression on his face and interrupted her, placing a single finger on her slightly parted lips. "Ah no, Lisbon, don't say it. You promised."

* * *

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**We've reached the final chapter of this fic I'm afraid, but don't fret or worry, the continuation is already in the making and I'll start posting it soon. It will be called "Catch A Tyger By His Tail". It's going to be VERY long and will conclude my story arc. And yes: the title is a clue about certain plot elements...**

**Thanks for bearing with me this far, I hope you enjoyed it and that you'll take the time to tell me so. Furthermore, I hope that a lot of you will continue to accompany my versions of Jane and Lisbon through their trials and tribulations...**

**Warning for this one: Explicit sexual content.**

* * *

She closed her mouth and drew him into a fierce hug instead, while he rolled his eyes in exasperation. He did return the following kiss though, effectively transforming all his frustration and pent-up emotions from earlier into flaming passion. He got painfully aroused in a matter of seconds.

He broke the kiss and the embrace so he could lean over the edge of the bed. In a hurry, he opened the nightstand drawer and rummaged through it carelessly, throwing out whatever got in his way, completely ignoring her angry protests. Finally he found what he'd been looking for.

"Get rid of your clothes, Teresa," he ordered, while fumbling with the buttons of his jeans.

She cast him a look of astonishment.

"Now!" he commanded.

She was so surprised about his behavior, that she could just sit there and stare, while he stripped frantically.

"Come on, Teresa," he groaned, when he realized she still wore both her sweatpants and her shirt.

He was naked already and just about to pull a condom over his erection. "I want you. Now. Undress." he ordered again.

This time he really got her attention with both his words and the open desire in his eyes. Originally, she had wanted to object to his brazen demands, but sudden arousal let the words of protest die on her lips. She pulled the shirt over her head while Patrick started to draw down her pants. The moment she was naked, he flipped her around so she was lying on her front.

"Get on your hands and knees," he ordered and somehow, she couldn't refuse him.

He knelt behind her and took a hold of her hips, adjusted her position so it would suit him best, and entered her with one powerful thrust. They both moaned loudly. He set a brutal rhythm, nearly leaving her body with every stroke, before fully penetrating her again. He pulled her off her hands and onto his chest, kissing and biting her neck and kneading her breasts almost painfully. To her own surprise, she loved every second of it and groaned in ecstasy.

"You are mine, Teresa. Mine," he moaned. "I am not cute and sweet. I am a selfish bastard, Teresa," he pressed out, reinforcing his words with brutal thrusts, but belying them by turning her head to press tender kisses to her mouth.

Letting go of her face again, he groaned in her ear. "I love you. God, how I love you. Do you love me, Teresa?"

"Oh yes, Patrick."

"Say it." He punctuated his demand with a forceful thrust.

"I love you, Patrick," she answered dutifully, almost breathless.

One of his hands wandered down between her legs. He found her clit immediately. Between his nearly punishing thrusts and this new excitement, the stimulation became nearly too much, almost painful, but again she realized it was absolutely perfect. It took only half a minute before she cried out her release, pleasure racing through her body.

He managed a few more erratic thrusts before he reached his climax as well with an animalistic groan. He pulled out of her and lowered her gently on the mattress. Still panting, she turned onto her back and looked up at him. He seemed a bit out of breath, but other than that, he appeared more relaxed than she'd seen him for most of the evening.

He exhaled audibly before he found her eyes and said. "I guess, I really needed that. Thank you, Teresa, for playing along. I hope it wasn't too rough. You did seem to like it, I would say, considering your reactions."

"Are you kidding? I loved it, Patrick! That was intense. I wouldn't want it like that every day, but just now it was perfect. I must say, you're causing quite a few new sexual revelations for me. I never expected to enjoy something like that," she answered, letting a very un-Lisbon-like giggle slip past her lips.

His grin was very smug when he said. "Get used to it, Emy. I'll explore every nook and cranny of our mutual sexuality with you, if you let me."

"I'm not entirely sure whether I should be elated or scared at the thought," she teased.

"Oh, you should definitely be scared, my dear. But for the moment, shall we call it a night? I'm going to take a short shower, I'm rather sweaty, and get ready for bed afterwards. I feel deliciously spent. Maybe I'll even catch some sleep again tonight."

He yawned.

"Sounds good to me. I'll join you for that shower, if that's alright. But no funny stuff," she said again, with a grin.

"No funny stuff, scout's honor, Lisbon."

* * *

He got up from the bed and pulled her with him. They proceeded to the bathroom. Patrick got rid of the used condom at once and went over to the toilet, obviously planning to take a leak. At the last moment he stopped himself and cast a questioning look in Teresa's direction.

"Sorry, is that alright with you, or would you like to leave? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's fine. I'm not sure I'm ready to do it in front of you, but I have no problem with you doing it. I have three brothers, remember? Believe me, I've seen it all."

He snickered knowingly and went on with his business unashamedly, while Teresa went ahead into the shower, after pulling her hair back clipping it up into a messy bun to prevent it getting wet. He followed her in a moment later. With very efficient movements, he cleaned himself in a matter of minutes, and managed to avoid looking at her in the process.

"Are you scared of me, imp?" she asked in amusement, slowly running her soapy washcloth down between her breasts and across her taut stomach.

"Meh, just trying not to besmirch the sacred scout's honor," he replied, already in the act of leaving the stall.

"Oh come on. I want a kiss at least," she wheedled.

"Don't tempt me, woman," he replied, leaving the shower.

She chuckled and finished her own cleaning. "Guess, little Jane isn't up for the job," she teased.

"Even if it's hard, yes, pun intended, I'm NOT going to rise to the bait, and yes, that was another bad pun," he answered with a smile, while toweling himself off.

She laughed out loud before she switched off the water and left the stall as well. He was bent forward drying off his legs and she couldn't resist to pinch his exposed butt in passing.

"Ouch," he squeaked. "You're really such a brute, Agent Lisbon. I don't know why I'm putting up with you."

Belying his words, he grabbed a clean towel and wrapped it around her, pulling her in for a kiss afterwards. While she finished toweling off, he brushed his teeth. After that he turned to leave and said, "I'll give you some privacy. See you in a few."

She was not surprised but still touched by his thoughtfulness. Completing her evening routine, she heard clinking noises and footsteps outside the bathroom and realized that he was probably carrying their used dishes down to the kitchen. So far he had shown himself to be a very useful cohabitee, she had to admit. She could only hope it would stay that way.

She left the bathroom and nearly collided with him on his way back from the kitchen. He was carrying two clean glasses and a pitcher with water. "I don't know about you, but I like to have something to drink close by at night," he explained.

"Good idea. I'm actually a bit thirsty right now," she replied. They went to the bedroom together.

"Can we sleep in the nude? I'd really like that." He smiled.

"As long as you don't steal the comforter and leave me out to freeze, I'm all for it," she said.

"That won't be an issue, my dear, because you'll be lying right on top of me," he stated.

She grinned. "Is that so, imp?"

"Yep," he deadpanned, happily.

"Well, who am I to contradict then…" she said.

After taking a drink and switching off the light, they arranged themselves in their favorite position and exchanged some languid kisses in the dark. They talked for a short while about superficial things, but it didn't take long before they grew too tired to continue. Teresa was the first to fall asleep, Patrick followed her into slumber an hour later.

* * *

**The End - for now**

**To be continued in "Catch A Tyger By His Tail" - watch out for it soon.**


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